


Fealty

by Lasenby_Heathcote, Robin_tCJ



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Blatant Disrespect for Biology, Blatant Disrespect for Engineering, Blatant Disrespect for Genetics, Bottom Tony Stark, Comic Book Science, Dom/sub Undertones, Idiots in Love, Inconsistent Technological Parallels to real world, Lingerie, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Tony Stark, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Top Steve Rogers, antiquated purity ideas, more plot than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-29 13:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/pseuds/Lasenby_Heathcote, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: Steve Rogers is Lord of America, and was gifted his corner of the kingdom of Starkland after amazing acts of heroism in the war against Hydra. A long, brutal winter forces Steve to go to King Howard for aid, and Howard agrees – under the condition that Steve bond with his Omega son, Tony. Steve agrees, of course, for the good of his people. Prince Tony is a trained Omega Consort – an Omega of status sent to a prestigious academy to become the perfect Consort Mate to high-status Alphas throughout the kingdom. At this academy they learn diplomacy, negotiation, proper manners, and, of course, the various ways to pleasure their Alphas.





	1. For The Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> Fic written by Robintcj, art by Lasenbyphoenix!
> 
> I went with ‘choose not to warn’ because technically I think this fic falls into dubcon territory. Steve and Tony are in an arranged marriage of sorts, and they are contractually obligated to conjugate their union when Tony goes into heat. Tony is nervous and afraid and Steve is conflicted but everyone ends up having a really, really, really good time(s).
> 
> There is also a scene where there is discussion of Tony’s ‘purity/virginity’ as an Omega, and due to antiquated purity ideas (see tag) that status must be confirmed by a doctor. Tony is unbothered, though Steve finds it distasteful. It’s vague and I don’t describe the actual medical exam, but it’s discussed, so I’m making note of it. 
> 
> If those kind of scenarios bother you, please take care of yourselves.
> 
> A few notes about my worldbuilding:
> 
> This is one of those nebulous fairy-tale settings where everyone talks normally but also they don’t have cell phones or, like, running water. They travel on horseback and send letters by raven.
> 
> I am not, personally, into mpreg fics. I have nothing against them, but I’m not into it. “But then how can you write ABO?” you cry – a reasonable question. Well, I thought about a few different ways to avoid mpreg, and finally went back to my grade 9 science lessons about eye colour and recessive genes, and came up with a reasoning. This is why this fic is not mpreg:  
> Chromosomes for males and females respectively are XX and XY. ABO designation is sort of a secondary gender. So if your chromosomes are A-XY, you’re an Alpha Male. O-XX would be Omega Female. B-XX would be Beta Female, and so on and so forth.  
> Two Y chromosomes can’t conceive a child, so while a male Omega may have heats and a womb, the egg can’t survive the process of impregnation. Technically, it’s a flaw in evolution, kind of a mutation, but it’s well known. It’s like how a male calico cat is sterile (about one in three thousand is not sterile, pretty low odds), so are male Omegas sterile.
> 
> Seriously, I had a chart, I’ll put it in the end notes.
> 
> Finally, for the record, this story was influenced by a fic in the Angel: the Series fandom by thebratqueen, written may years ago. It was never finished, but it was glorious, and Wesley was a companion (same idea I have for the consort here, education and all) to king Angel. I did reach out to thebratqueen and received permission to stick with some of the themes from her fic, so don't worry about that.

"You know, I never wanted to be a lord." Steve flops down on his armchair in the drawing room, suddenly overcome with a feeling of petulance about the entire thing. 

"That's true, you didn't," Bucky agrees, taking a pastry from the beautiful basket that had come with the packet of contracts from King Howard's messenger. He bites into it, flaky crumbs dropping into his lap as he leans back on the sofa. 

"I'm terrible at being a lord," Steve continues, as though Bucky hadn't spoken. "You should do it." 

"You're right, you are shit at it," Bucky agrees again. "These are good, what is this, raspberry cream?" 

"Why are you eating the pastries?" 

"Because they're here." 

"But what if they're poisoned? What if this is King Howard's way of getting this land back?" 

"You think Howard's gonna send you contracts for an Omega Consort with some poisoned baked goods? Coulda just sent an assassin, it'd be simpler." 

Steve snorts. "Like one of King Howard's assassins could get through our borders – through _you_." 

Bucky nods, taking another large bite of the raspberry cream pastry. "You're right, that would be stupid. Okay, tell you what – I'll eat all the pastries, and if I don't die you'll know they weren't poisoned." 

Steve blinks at him. "I feel like I should caution you against eating all of them." 

"Right again, Stevie. Look at you, right all over the place around here. I'll save one for Clint or he'll make me sleep on the couch." 

Steve rolls his eyes and starts flipping through the contract paperwork. "Why am I doing this again?" he asks, pained. 

"The plight of your people," Bucky says, popping the last of the pastry into his mouth and licking crumbs off his fingers. He wipes them off on his jeans, then reaches forward for another copy of the contract so he can flip through it as well. "Though, I still think you can probably find a better way if it makes you that unhappy." 

Steve sighs, jumping back to his feet restlessly. He begins to pace as he talks. "I don't want to ration our stores. I've _been_ hungry, Bucky. You know that. The last thing I want to do is inflict that on the whole province." 

The harvest had been weak this year – the snow had fallen a full month early, and while the province's farmers had worked hard to bring as much of the crops in as possible, their stores for the winter are just barely passable. 

"If spring doesn't come early, we'll actually run out of a lot of our stores," Steve says. Bucky already knows all this, of course. They've been talking about these things for months while Steve had waffled back and forth between asking King Howard for assistance and being willing to pay the price for that assistance. 

"Don't forget the Chitauri," Bucky says, leaning forward and plucking another pastry from the basket. 

"Yes! The Chitauri!" Steve agrees, pacing faster and gesticulating wildly. "Did Sam tell you that Redwing spotted _another_ Chitauri scout on the beach just last week?" 

Bucky grimaces, pushing the mouthful of pastry he's chewing to the inside of his cheek so he can talk. "Clint thinks he found tracks down at the south end of Liberty Beach." 

Steve flops back into his chair. "Another one? I really think they're coming, Buck." 

"And we could take 'em," Bucky argues. 

"But how many people would we lose if we tried to do it on our own?" Steve says. "And if we send the whole army to the waterfront to keep the Chitauri at bay, who's watching our eastern borders?" 

"Look, I'm not saying that getting help from Howard was a _bad_ idea. I'm just saying – isn't there another way?" 

"I've tried," Steve says sadly. He waves a hand over the contracts on the table between them. "This is the smartest way. The safest." 

"So you'll bond with an Omega you've never met. Steve, I _know_ you. You're not… you're not that callous. You're a _romantic_. You want courting and grand, sweeping gestures and violin music. Not some Omega Consort from Starkland you've never met, that you may not even _like_." 

Steve gives one shoulder a sad little hitch up. "That's the thing about being a leader, Buck. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the things you want in order to make sure your people have the things they need. We don't have the stores, the soldiers, _or_ the weaponry to take on the Chitauri horde if they decide to come for us. King Howard _does_. He has all that and more." 

"But America is a _part_ of Starkland. Why doesn't he just give us the aid we need to protect his own borders? If the Chitauri get through here, they're going through to Starkland anyway. Why does he insist you take a Consort?" 

Steve leans forward and rests his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I don't know. That's the bargain he's insisted on, though. It's not all bad – a Consort will at least cement my ties to the Kingdom. So if we ever need King Howard's help again, maybe he'll be more likely to give it." 

"Or maybe this Consort is a spy, and he's doing this to try and take America out from under you." 

"Well, like you said. I'm shit at it, anyway. Might as well." 

Bucky glares at him, but before he can retort by telling Steve what a monumental idiot he is, the drawing room door opens and Clint walks in. 

"Ooh!" he says, bounding to Bucky's sofa with his eyes glued to the basket of pastries. "Bribery baking!" 

"Careful, doll, Steve's 80 per cent convinced they're poisoned," Bucky tells him. 

Clint stares at the basket for a long moment, then shrugs exaggeratedly and reaches for something covered in powdered sugar. "I'm gonna risk it." 

Steve rolls his eyes fondly as Clint flops on the sofa next to Bucky and butting up against the stump of his shoulder where Bucky had lost his arm in the war, the two Betas apparently incapable of sitting next to one another without making sure they have at least two points of contact between them at all times. 

Bucky has been Steve's friend since long before Steve had been named Lord of America – since before they'd both joined the army, even. Bucky had pulled Steve out of one of many scrapes with an angry older boy when they were both children, and they'd been inseparable since then. Bucky had been there his whole life, up until the Beta had gone off to join the war effort to fight back the Hydra hordes for King Howard. He'd been gone to war for nearly a year when Steve had found the apothecary on the edge of the province. The one who had given him an elixir that had cured his many maladies and had transformed him from a sickly, tiny Alpha into the bulky, robust one he is today. 

Steve had immediately gone to the front lines to help with the war, and risen through the ranks to lead his own company – a company he had insisted Bucky join. Steve had led Bucky and their men to the heart of the Hydra kingdom and defeated their leader, the Red Skull, effectively ending the war. Bucky had lost an arm in the battle, and Erskine, the apothecary who had given Steve his potion, had died while they were away. 

Their victory hadn't gone unnoticed. Upon their return to Starkland, King Howard had beckoned Steve to sit court with him. He'd insisted that Steve be gifted with a kingdom of his own, and given him the lands of America. Only once Steve had made it to the old palace there had he begun to suspect that perhaps Howard had given Steve the status and lands of a lord under duress or political pressure. The province was struggling, the people tired and downtrodden. But Steve had worked hard, had done what he could to motivate and teach his subjects, until they were more self-sustaining. 

But this year, the harvest had been so poor, and the winter so far has been hard. He hadn't wanted to do it, but Steve had known that he would have to seek help from King Howard in order to keep his people alive. 

His problem now is that he's aware of the cost. 

"What's all this?" Clint asks, gesturing to the contracts on the table. "Is this why we have bribery baked goods?" 

"These are the Omega Consort contracts from King Howard," Bucky says, grinning. 

"Oh ho ho ho," Clint says, sitting up gleefully. "Is this where you get to choose which Omega you're going to stuff your –" he's cut off when Bucky shoves a pastry into his open mouth. Clint barely lets it faze him, just humming thoughtfully and beginning to chew the oversized mouthful. 

"You're disgusting," Bucky says, but it sounds more like flirting than chastising. "Steve doesn't get to pick an Omega, they already chose him one." 

"You don't get to pick?" Clint says around the wad of chewed up pastry in his mouth. 

"That's not part of the deal," Steve tells him. "The point of the Omega Consort is to strengthen our political ties to King Howard's kingdom; that means they choose which one based on which ties it will strengthen." 

"So who did they choose?" 

"I… actually don't know," Steve admits, glancing down at the contracts. "The contracts don't name them. Just that the Consort will be sent shortly before they enter their heat, and we have to consummate the bonding during that first heat." Steve ignores Clint's lewd eyebrow waggling. "In exchange, we get the men, the foodstuffs, and the weaponry we need to protect America from the Chitauri." 

"So what's the big deal about the whole Omega Consort thing anyway?" Clint asks, wiping jelly-covered hands from his pastry over his shirt. 

"They're specially trained," Steve says, glaring at Bucky. "For political diplomacy and – stuff." 

Bucky bursts out laughing, completely lacking in anything resembling deference for the man who is, technically, royalty. 

"Yeah, that's what they're trained in," he snorts. 

Clint blinks at them both. "Wanna clear it up for the guy in the room with multiple concussions?" 

Bucky reaches out and brushes a hand over Clint's head, gently, but it seems to be out of reflex because his eyes are still dancing, his grin wide. "Omegas are rare, right?" he explains. "But they also don't come with a whole lot of benefits for a family – they gotta come up with dowries, find an Alpha or Beta of good standing to take their kid on and bond them, the whole deal. So some parents who don't want to have to deal with all that, they just send their Omega kids to this special school out in East Starkland so they can learn to be sex slaves." 

"They aren't _sex slaves_ ," Steve groans. They've been over this _ad nauseam_. "They're Omegas who have been taught proper manners and political history and diplomacy and –" 

"And how to take an Alpha's knot down their throats," Bucky snorts, completely ignoring Steve's glare. 

"So you asked King Howie for help and his response was to insist you take on a sex kitten for a bondmate? Seriously?" Clint asks, looking between Bucky and Steve. 

"I asked King Howard for help and he insisted I strengthen our political ties to the rest of Starkland by bonding with an Omega Consort of his choosing, yes," Steve says through clenched teeth. 

"Man, you get all the good things," Clint sighs theatrically. "You got all the enhanced muscles, you got the fancy castle, the kingdom, and now you're getting the mail order bondmate… Sometimes I really wanna be you, man." 

"You want to be Lord? With all the responsibility and the paperwork and the solving problems?" Steve asks, finally reaching forward and taking a pastry from the basket. Neither Bucky nor Clint is dead yet, it seems safe. Ish. "You go ahead, Clint. You can have it." 

"Yes!" Clint says, pumping a fist in the air. "Do I get your Omega sex kitten, too?" 

"Fuck, no," Bucky growls, humour suddenly dissipating. "Do I need to remind you that you have your _own_ sex kitten?" 

"But you're a _Beta_ , baby. And, I mean, you're good and all but think of how many things this one has learned at Omega Sex School." 

"I hate both of you very much," Steve sighs, biting into a pastry. It's good. Lemony. 

"Seriously, though," Clint says, giving Bucky's knee a reassuring pat. "Why do they send the Omegas to the Consort school?" 

"Part of the selling point for getting an actual Consort, instead of just any Omega, is the lessons they're taught there," Steve says. "Navigating the politics of the kingdoms, negotiating with other rulers, planning and maintenance of the palace, the whole bit. There's a list of their curriculum in one of those piles." 

"Is sex on the list?" Bucky asks slyly. Steve's cheeks heat, but he nods. 

"I think they called it 'bond-strengthening discourse', but yeah." 

Bucky crows out a laugh. "I bet they teach them to call fucking 'bond-strengthening discourse,' too." 

"You know you can't say stuff like this when the Consort gets here, right?" Steve says, making it more of an order than a question. "I won't have you making them uncomfortable with this kind of talk." 

Bucky gives him an unimpressed glare. "I'm saying this shit to wind _you_ up, asshole. The kid's gonna have enough trouble when they get here, going from the Capitol and the training academy to the middle of nowhere." 

"We're not the middle of _nowhere_ ," Clint argues. "We have beaches. People like beaches." 

"Not in the middle of winter, they don't," Bucky says. 

Steve picks up the contract again, tuning out their bickering. 

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about the more… intimate details of taking on a Consort as a bondmate. At the same time, the thought of it all makes him uncomfortable more than anything else. What if King Howard sends him a simpering fool of an Omega? Or worse, one with cunning and more loyalty to Howard than to their new Alpha? Steve doesn't think they're doing anything out here in America that could be a problem, but he still isn't sure he'd be comfortable with a spy coming into his home. 

But they need the aid. So it doesn't matter how uncomfortable he is with it – with the possibility of the Consort spying on them, with the fact that he's contracting a bondmate, none of it. 

"So that's it, then, huh?" Clint asks, breaking through Steve's thoughts. "You sign that and you're bonded forever?" 

"That's how it works," Steve tells him. 

"Bonded to someone you've never met," Clint adds, and his voice is soft and understanding and sympathetic. It makes Steve want to leave the room, to rail against the unfairness of it all, to tear the contracts to shreds. 

But what he wants isn't important, especially not in the face of what it means for the hundreds of people in the kingdom who need what King Howard has to offer. 

"You can still back out," Bucky says softly. "I'm givin' you the gears here, I know, but the real bitch of it is that this is going to be it for you, pal. You don't get to choose how the rest of your life goes after this." 

Steve looks down at the contract, at the last page he's flipped to. There's a straight line across the bottom, waiting for a signature. He stares at it. 

"This is me making a choice," he tells them. "A choice about how everyone else's life is going to go after this." 

He reaches for a pen and signs his full name on the line. _Steven Grant Rogers_. Lord of America, in the Starklands Kingdom. 

Clint looks at him for a long moment, then pulls the contract out from under Steve's hand. "I'll get this messengered to King Howard, then." 

"Have Sam send it with Redwing," Steve says, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. "I want it there as soon as possible, and Redwing moves faster than any of the ravens. We need things to move quickly, now." 

"Sure thing," Clint says, giving Bucky a soft but meaningful look on his way out the door. 

"You gonna be okay, Stevie?" Bucky asks, a beat or two after the door closes behind Clint. 

"America is going to be okay," Steve tells him, meeting his eyes with a tired smile. "That's the important thing, you know?" 

"Yeah, pal. I know." 

+++++ 

Once the contracts are received in Starkland, it doesn't take long for word to come back. In a few weeks' time, a caravan of soldiers, supplies, and Steve's new Consort will arrive. They've already set off from the Capitol, according to the note King Howard had sent by raven. They'd travel around the mountains, and be through the swamp lands in no time while they're frozen over. 

Steve sets the kingdom and his closest advisors to frantic preparations. They need housing for the soldiers, they need to reorganize the community stores to sort out the new supplies. 

And they need to set aside a room in the palace for the Consort and his valets. 

The note King Howard had sent had filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle when it came to Steve's new Omega Consort. The signing of the contract had finalized the deal – there needn't be any bonding ceremony. In the eyes of the law and the land, Steve and the Omega were officially bonded when Steve had signed that paper. 

The note had explained that Steve's new bondmate was, in fact, the Omega son of King Howard himself. Not that, Steve supposes, that's any kind of positive aspect in most people's eyes. 

The entire Kingdom was aware of King Howard and Queen Maria's plight when it had come to producing an heir. Queen Maria had suffered miscarriage after miscarriage before she'd produced a successful live birth. The child had been a male Omega, much to the consternation of King Howard. 

An Omega wouldn't be able to inherit the throne, according to the laws. Beyond that, a male Omega wouldn't be able to parent any children. 

So Howard and Maria had tried over and over to conceive an Alpha, or even a Beta, but each pregnancy after their Omega son, Anthony, had ended in miscarriage – until the last. Maria had died during childbirth, and the infant had died soon after. 

The child had been an Alpha. 

Anthony had been 15 at the time, and King Howard had sent him to boarding school away from home. 

Now, Steve supposes it had always been the Consort academy, not just any boarding school. 

"Well if that's not a little bit of fuckery, I don't know what is," Bucky had said, peering over Steve's shoulder at the note. 

Steve has to agree with him, really. Sending Anthony Stark to him as his Omega bondmate is probably more of an insult than anything else. Steve had already been fairly certain that King Howard hadn't _really_ wanted to give him his own kingdom – which Steve hadn't even really _wanted_ in the first place. Now, King Howard was clearly drawing a line in the sand: Steve Rogers isn't royalty by blood, so his bloodline ends here. 

Because a male Omega wouldn't be able to produce children with a male Alpha. The genetics are simple – the Alpha and Omega genes are recessive, and the only way to produce an Alpha or an Omega child would be to have one parent be an Alpha and the other an Omega. Beta parents almost always produce Beta children, since the Beta gene is dominant. But there's a flaw in the evolution of the male Omegas. They have a womb and heats, but because of the mutation that allows for an Omega to be a male, a fertilized egg won't survive. 

Which means no heir. Steve could name a successor, but King Howard could just annex the province and fold it back into Starkland Kingdom. It would be a terrible scandal to take Steve's kingdom from him while he's still alive, but without an heir to Steve's throne, there's nothing to stop him once Steve is dead and gone. 

And the fact that an Omega can't inherit the throne means that when Steve dies, his bondmate _and_ his kingdom will go back to belonging to Howard. 

"Think he's a spy?" Bucky asks, still peering over Steve's shoulder. 

"I don't know," Steve admits. "But make sure you spread it around to watch what we say and do in front of him, just in case." 

"Sure thing, pal. Anything else you want me to spread around?" 

"This says Stark will be bringing his valet and his bodyguard with him. Ask the staff to make up rooms for them?" 

"Want them closer to the prince's room, or in the 'other motherfuckers' wing with me 'n Clint?" 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Put them closer to Anthony," he says. "Not a lot of point having him far away from them." 

"So you'll be consummating in your rooms, then?" Bucky says slyly. 

"Seriously, Buck, get it out of your system now." 

"Doing my best!" Bucky tells him, heading off to direct the palace staff. 

Steve thinks he might get a few minutes to himself, finally. He wants to turn the puzzle of Anthony Stark over in his head a little bit. 

He'd worked out fairly quickly how much of an insult Anthony is to Steve, but he's yet to figure out why King Howard would make _Anthony_ bond with Steve. Surely any male Omega Consort would have done. 

The only thing Steve can think of is that Anthony's lineage is to blame – Any other Omega, in the event of Steve's untimely death, would then go back to belonging to their own family. That could give that Omega's Alpha father grounds to challenge for the inheritance of reign over America. Sending Anthony, King Howard's only offspring, all but guarantees that America will revert back to King Howard. 

And Steve doesn't want that. Howard isn't a _bad_ king. He's not cruel to his subjects, he's not a warmonger. But before Steve had been named Lord of America, the province had fallen by the wayside. It's isolated, far away from the Capitol, and populated by farmers and fisherman – not a high profile place. That low profile had made it easy for King Howard to ignore the people here – convinced they weren't contributing to the advancement of the kingdom – and Steve doesn't ever want that to happen to the province again. 

His thoughts are interrupted when Natasha comes into the drawing room. She's been away on a scouting mission through some of the more isolated villages on the outskirts of the province, both to keep an eye out for Chitauri or other enemies, and to check in with the communities to see what aid they require from their lord. 

"I hear congratulations are in order," she says. Her tone is light, but there's an edge to her voice Steve doesn't miss. 

"Not you, too," Steve sighs, looking at her beseechingly. "I'm getting enough of this from Bucky, Clint and Sam. I was really hoping you wouldn't be dishing it out, too." 

"Oh, I'm not here to dish out anything," Natasha says, idly running a finger over the side table as she makes her way around the room. They don't talk about it, and Steve doesn't acknowledge it, but he knows she's walking the perimeter to double check exits and escape routes before she sits down on the sofa across from him. It's her way, and he's well used to Natasha's ways by now. 

"Good, because whatever it is, I've heard it." 

"Have you?" she arches an eyebrow at him. "What do you know about your new bondmate?" 

"Not much," he admits. "It's Anthony Stark." 

"The king's son?" she asks, humming thoughtfully. "That's interesting." 

Steve nods. "So I guess King Howard isn't my very biggest fan." 

"No, but you knew that already. If only you'd just let him forget about our silly little fishing villages, I'm sure he'd like you much more." 

"I've always had a soft spot for the little guy," Steve says with a twitch of a smile. 

"And what about Anthony Stark? Do you have a soft spot for him?" 

Steve stares. "I've never met him. Not yet." 

"But if you have any regard for the 'little guy', you should make note to have that same generosity toward him." 

"He's a prince, Nat." 

"He's a young man who has never had agency over himself or his future," she argues, and the lightness of her tone is gone now. "He was sent to the academy for the sole purpose of learning to please an Alpha – an Alpha that he knew from day one he would never get to _choose_. All his choices and decisions have been made _for_ him, with no regard for his own dreams or desires." 

"I don't want to –" 

"It doesn't matter what you want," she interrupts him. "What matters is that Anthony will be coming here under duress. That's a choice you made for him, that he would be bonded forever to an Alpha he's never met." 

"Nat –" he tries again. 

"Stop," she tells him. Her tone softens. "I'm not saying you'll hurt him. I'm saying you have the _potential_ to hurt him. I'm saying it would be very, very easy to hurt him, and to not even know you've _done_ it because he'll never, ever be able to tell you." 

Steve blinks at her, realization settling in. 

"He's essentially been bought and sold to you, in his mind. You could be a monster, you could be vicious, you could be infirm or old or weak or ill or hideous. He didn't get any kind of a choice. You went into this knowing you were getting a trained Consort, and they're guaranteed to be a lot of things – beautiful, deferential, polite, smart, and yes, sexually gifted. He's coming here after a life of having no agency, no autonomy." 

Steve feels like he could be sick. He hadn't really thought about the implications of agreeing to a Consort from the kingdom. He hadn't given any thought to the person on the other end of the bonding contracts. 

"I didn't want this. I don't want some – some property. I always wanted a _person_ , Nat, you know that. I wanted to find someone to share my life with." 

"And now you have," she tells him. "Maybe not the way you intended, but you have." 

"I'm doing this for the people. The villagers and the townspeople, the farmers and fishermen. For all of you. So we can survive this winter." 

"I know, Steve," she says, gentle now. "I'm not saying you didn't do the right thing. I'm just saying… be aware of all the moving parts, here." 

She squeezes his shoulder in her small hand, then stands up and heads for the door. "Now, I've been on the road for two weeks, I need a hot bath and bottle of wine." 

"Thanks, Natasha," Steve tells her as she goes. "You're always here to tell me when I'm being a moron, and I appreciate that about you." 

"Is that all you appreciate about me?" she asks, wicked smirk turned over her shoulder. 

"Not even close," Steve tells her. 


	2. A Terrible King

"Are you sure you don't want to get out? Stretch your legs?" Rhodey is already gathering up his coat and hat, wrapping a scarf around his neck. 

"Do you see yourself right now? Do you have any idea how cold it is out there? I'm not going _anywhere_. I will stay in this coach until _spring_." 

"You can't stay until spring, Tony," Pepper reminds him, wrapping herself in an additional few layers of clothing. "We'll be in America in days." 

Tony doesn't need the reminder _at all_. He's fully aware of how soon they'll be in America. How soon he'll be face to face with his new Alpha. 

He wishes his mother were still alive – she probably would have convinced Howard not to send him out to the coast, to some shitty little fishing village and its so-called 'lord'. Hell, Maria might have even managed to convince Howard not to send Tony to the Academy at all. 

It would have been better if Howard had disowned him, probably. 

Not that the Academy had been _awful_. But It had been so _boring_. Everything was all about politics and glad handing and sucking up to dukes and earls and regents. 

Tony had wanted to study _science_. Science and math and engineering. He wanted to take things apart, learn how they ticked, then put them back together better than they'd started off. 

Not that he could have _done_ much with it. 

Some of the outer provinces apparently had more relaxed laws about Omega rights. As in, apparently sometimes Omegas _had_ rights, according to some of their lectures at the Academy. Of course, the professors had always told them about these outer provinces with an air of disgust, and all the Omegas in Tony's classes had nodded dutifully because yes, of course, Omegas don't _need_ rights and it just _complicates_ everything and a good Omega knows how to cook, clean, and sit on a knot. 

Eugh. God, he'd hated school. 

He had passed, though. Not because he'd believed any of the garbage he'd spewed during exams or discussions. Because as much as Howard hated to admit it, his Omega son was, while useless in all aspects of politics and inheritance, a genius. So Tony had learned how to game the system at school. 

Now, he regrets it. He'd always sort of felt that Howard sending him to the Academy had been more punishment than anything else. Punishment for being an Omega. Punishment for Maria's death, for the death of his baby brother – though he'd had nothing to do with any of that. 

He supposes he'd never believed he'd actually be contracted to bond with an Alpha, that Howard would, at least, never force him to suffer _that_ indignity. 

But Howard had, as usual, exceeded all expectations, and now he's being sent to some isolated warlord in the middle of nowhere. 

He'd spoken to some of the other Consorts he'd gone to school with, and none of them seemed to know anything about America or its lord. Tony had asked the servants, he'd had Rhodey and Pepper ask around, and no one had anything to say about Lord Steven. There were rumours, of course. That Lord Steven had infiltrated and viciously killed members of the Hydra horde. That he had single-handedly defeated the Red Skull. 

But Tony hasn't been able to separate truth from rumour. For example, according to one tale, not only had he defeated the Red Skull, but he had then proceeded to crack open the Skull's, er, skull, and bathe in his jellied brain matter. 

There were rumours that he was the recipient of some magical elixir that had made him immortal, 10 feet tall, then made his cock so big no Omega could take his knot. 

Tony mostly hopes those ones aren't true. He's nervous enough about going into heat, about consummating with an Alpha, about being knotted for the first time. He doesn't need to think about some forearm-sized dick with a knot the size of his head. 

All Tony _does_ know is that the guy's probably a giant asshole. Howard would never have sent Tony to an Alpha that wasn't. 

"It's going to be okay," Pepper says, pulling Tony out of his rushing, wild thoughts. "It really is, Tony." 

Tony glances up. Rhodey has already left the coach and is outside talking to some of the soldiers they're traveling with. 

"You can't know that," he says back to her, knowing his voice sounds miserable. "In fact, you're more likely wrong." 

Her green eyes shine, and her pert nose turns pink with determination not to cry. "If – if he's awful, if he's a monster, Tony, we'll find a way to–" 

"No, you won't," he says, resigned smile twitching up one side of his mouth. "You can't. This is my life now, Pep. Whatever he ends up being – whatever he wants to do to me, that's what I was made for, right?" 

Her eyes flash. "It's not _fair_ ," she growls. "Just because you're an Omega–" 

"Just because I'm an Omega _Prince_ ," he reminds her. "Don't forget that part, I think it might be the deciding factor in all this. Not just anyone is accepted to the Academy, you know. And I probably would have flunked out years ago if my father wasn't the king." 

Pepper sets her mouth in a scowl. "You would not have. You were a great student when you wanted to be, Tony." 

He grins wider, trying to give her a wicked, devilish smirk. "I'll be honest, I excelled at a few classes. Usually the ones that didn't involve a lot of 'class' but did have a lot of–" 

"Don't be lewd, Tony." She rolls her eyes, but the fragile paleness to her face is fading. She looks less heartbroken and afraid for him now, which had been his goal – he's afraid enough for himself without adding her fear to the mix. Her eyes take on a mischievous glint of their own. "I meant your ballroom dancing lessons. You were always quite good with a rhythm." 

Tony bursts out laughing, surprised by the off-colour joke from her. "At least we can take comfort in the fact Howard sent you and Rhodey with me. Though, I _am_ sorry you have to move to butt-fuck nowhere on the edge of the world." 

Pepper leans forward and gives him a light kiss on the cheek before she gets out of the coach to join Rhodey and the men outside. "The seaside will be nice in the summer," she tells him. "As for the winter, well, it will be over before we know it." 

She leaves Tony alone with his thoughts then, by himself in the coach. It's only mildly warmer than outside, so he wraps the furs and blankets around him more snugly. 

Surely the entire trip won't be this cold? 

+++++ 

The rest of the trip is hard and boring and, yes, cold. They make their way around the mountains and through the swamplands. By the time they get through to where the farming villages and towns begin, Tony has gone through almost all the books he'd brought along for the trip. He has more in his trunks, of course – science and math and engineering texts that he'd had Rhodey procure for him in secret because, of _course_ no Omega Consort would read anything more than a few romance novels, cookbooks and 'how to please your Alpha' instructional books, oh no. But he's gone through everything easily accessible in the coach. 

Instead, he finds himself doodling in a little notebook, his pencil scratching across the page. Pepper and Rhodey leave him to it, reading their own books or watching the scenery go by. 

Tony had tried looking at the scenery – all he'd seen was snow, snow and more snow, so he'd given up that little exercise in futility. 

He's sketching a blueprint design. He'll never do anything more than sketches, he knows, but from time to time he enjoys letting his mind run free with ideas and problem solving. Today's blueprint is for a compact but powerful energy device, a self-sustaining design based on the electromagnets he'd been reading about in one of his texts. If the design worked, it could potentially power an entire house; a larger one could power a village. 

It doesn't matter, of course. It's not something Tony will ever have see the light of day. But still – it's interesting to work on. 

He'd tried showing his father some of his designs, once. Mostly they were weaponry, because he'd been hoping that might interest Howard enough to actually look at them. But instead, the King had simply crumpled them up and thrown them out, throwing Tony out of his drawing room. 

He knows some of his proclivities are, if not dangerous, at least unusual for an Omega. Technically, what he's doing isn't against the laws of the land. He can read whatever books he likes, learn whatever he wants to learn about engineering and science. He can draw his blueprints, come up with his mathematical theories, it doesn't matter. 

He can't become a scientist or an engineer, working in one of the cities in the kingdom to build things and repair systems. 

And, now that he's bonded, his Alpha will have final say about his hobbies and projects. If Lord Steven has a problem with his engineering texts, he'll have to get rid of them. He'll have to do whatever Lord Steven says. 

He feels another rush of hatred and anger for his father. He hates the whole situation, the process of it all. 

He knows part of it is that he's coming close to his heat. 

There hadn't been any kind of ceremony for their bonding, of course, but one of the terms of the contract Howard had signed on his behalf was that Tony and Lord Steven would have to consummate their bond during Tony's first heat after the signing. 

He hasn't had a heat before; once he'd reached puberty age, he'd been given the usual suppressants. He's been on them since he was 12, through his days at the Academy and while waiting to find out who he was being sold to – bonded to. 

But as soon as Howard had received Lord Steven's signed agreement, he'd taken away Tony's suppressants. 

"I'm not going to let your stubborn attitude ruin this contract," Howard had growled at him. "You'll stop taking the potions now, and by the time you reach America, you'll go into heat within a few days, and you can consummate the bond and then you won't be my problem anymore." 

He can feel the irritation, the warmth of it prickling under his skin like an itch. His body is preparing itself for heat by making him moody and overly hot, which is quite frankly just a little over the top, he decides. Isn't it bad enough that, as a male Omega, he has no property rights, no bonding rights, and no reproductive capabilities? He has to have mood swings and uncontrollable sexual desire on top of it? 

At least, that's what his lessons had told him. He's not sure about the sexual desire part of things – he's had sex, of course, with the Beta professors and some of his Omega classmates. How else would he be expected to learn, really? And it had been fun, god knows he'd enjoyed it. Excelled at some of his lessons, there, really. 

But with an Alpha it would be different. He'd have a knot, first of all. And his lessons had taught Tony to be prepared for the raw, animalistic nature of an Alpha going into rut – set off by an Omega's heat, of all things, so that not only does the Omega have to suffer the indignity of their body's betrayal, but _they_ will also be the cause of the Alpha's violent, possessive and rough tendencies? God, the unfairness of it all. 

He's been trained in several different types of sexual discourse, of course, but he's going into this blind. Would his Alpha be rough? Cruel, perhaps? 

What if Tony can't satisfy him? He doesn't know what an Alpha likes – he knows what he's been taught to _do_ , but he'd never been very good at the simpering, coy flirting that the Academy had tried to teach him. Sex is supposed to be _fun_ , even Tony knows that. 

Of course, Tony's own pleasure in it will be more theory than practice. He thinks that if he can manage to satisfy Lord Steven, that will be the most important thing. 

He feels another hot flash, feels sweat prickle across his brow. 

God, really? He thinks. He wonders how long the pre-heat irritability will go on. How is he supposed to know when he's _actually_ gone into heat? How can he predict when it will happen? 

How long will it _last_? His sex ed classes had taught him a heat could last anywhere from three to eight days. How is he supposed to go through an eight-day heat? Will he be wild and needy and horny the _whole_ eight days? Oh god. 

"There's the palace," Pepper murmurs into his ear, leaning into his space. He looks up in surprise, his heart hammering in his chest. He can see it before them. It's still a ways away, but the ground is even and the snow has been packed down by traffic before them, so Tony can see it clearly up the road. 

The palace itself is on a hill, but the city surrounding it is on flat land. There's a rough looking stone fence around the perimeter, with high walls, but cracks throughout. 

It's clearly not one of the richer provinces. There's a fair amount of activity at the front gates, and Tony images it's the townspeople preparing for his arrival. God, he'd hoped to avoid a production, really. The last thing he'd wanted was to be gawked at by a bunch of local farmhands who don't know the first thing about a Consort. 

"It looks homey," Pepper says beside him. "Cheerful." 

"It looks like it'll blow over in a stiff wind," Tony says grimly, putting his notebook into a satchel beside him. "God, isn't there a place we can stop first? So I can, I don't know, freshen up or something?" 

"It'll be fine," Pepper says, handing him a small vial of rosewater. "Use this if you must, but I'm sure they'll offer us a chance to freshen up before we have to meet Lord Steven." 

"We could just turn around? Head back to the mountains, find a cave to live in?" 

"It's going to be _fine_ , Tony," Rhodey reiterates, watching the castle as they approach it. It's late afternoon, and the sun is already low on the horizon. The short days of the winter seem somehow even shorter out here, this far from home. 

"Fine for you two, maybe, you're not the ones expected to mate with some monster Alpha." 

"He's probably not a monster," Rhodey grimaces. "I think we'd have heard that much." 

Tony just glares at him. 

"Here, Tony," Pepper says, pulling a small jar of preserves from her cloaks. "This will settle your nerves." 

"Is it alcohol? Because I feel like alcohol is the only thing in the world that's going to settle my nerves." 

"It's not alcohol," she says, and Tony opens the jar and sniffs it. Apples, cinnamon, pears. 

"How long have you had this?" he asks accusingly. 

"Long enough to save for you so you could have it on the drive up to the castle." 

"You're mean, I should fire you." 

"What would you ever do without me?" She says, laughing prettily. "I'm not even sure you could put on your own waistcoat without me." 

"I _could_ but it wouldn't look as nice, you're right. Fine, you're re-hired." 

"Thank you so much, your grace," she says, injecting just enough sarcasm into her tone to make him smile. 

The light teasing manages to cover half the distance to the palace, and when Tony looks up again he can almost make out the features of the bustling townspeople waiting at the gate to welcome the weary travellers. 

His chest is tight. It's not so much a feeling that he can't get enough air in, more that he feels like there's too much air in his lungs, so there isn't room for anything fresher. He purses his lips and blows air out between his lips in a steady stream, inhales and does it again. 

Pepper's small, dry hand covers one of his, but she doesn't say anything. Tony stares at the castle as they approach, his knee bouncing anxiously. 

He longs for home. He'd hated home, but at least he'd known what to _expect._ It's the not knowing that's killing him now. What will the people be like? What will Lord Steven be like? Will he have normal Alpha appetites, or strange ones? What _are_ normal Alpha appetites? 

Will his Alpha allow him his own room? His books, his tools, the many things he enjoys tinkering with? Or will he be locked in a dungeon between heats? God, the possibilities are endless, each more horrifying than the last. 

"You're not gonna run, Tony," Rhodey says as the coach pulls through the gates. It's the last chance, and he hadn't _seriously_ been thinking about running, even though his thighs had tensed, his breathing sped up as though he'd been getting ready for it. "You can do this. You're strong, and smart, and he's gonna love you." 

And somehow Rhodey had managed to figure out the most terrifying thing about this whole situation, and decided not to pull any punches in letting Tony know it. Because that really _is_ his biggest fear. 

What if Lord Steven doesn't like him? What if Lord Steven casts him aside and sends him away? If he's sent back to Howard in disgrace, there's no telling what Howard would do to him. 

And a bondless Consort? He'd be relegated to the streets in no time, nothing for him to do about it but beg for scraps in bad neighbourhoods. 

No, his _life_ depends on Lord Steven liking him. 

And Tony… well, Tony has learned the hard way that he's not very likeable. His only friends are his valet and his bodyguard. 

No. This whole trip has felt like a death sentence because if he's not very, very careful, it may actually be one. 

+++++ 

The coach comes to a stop in front of the main doors of the castle. The rest of the caravan had stopped further away, in the city proper, under the direction of two men who had waved them down. One would take the stores, and one would take the army. 

That left Tony's coach, with Pepper and Rhodey, on the road up to the castle alone. 

On the plus side, the fact that most of the coaches and horses had stopped earlier means that there isn't a crowd in front of the castle, waiting to stare at Tony as he gets out and walks to his doom. 

There's a dark-skinned man standing on the steps of to the palace, smiling warmly as Rhodey gets out of the coach. He turns to help Pepper out, and then loans a hand to Tony. As Tony steps out of the coach, Rhodey gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

"Welcome to America," says the dark-skinned man, smile broadening. "You must be Prince Anthony. It's a pleasure to meet you." The man dips his head in a small bow – not quite enough of one for decorum's sake, but about as much as Tony could honestly stomach right now. 

"I'm Sam Wilson, I'm a friend of Steve's, and I'm here to help you folks get situated. He thought you might want to get cleaned up and wash the dust of the road off before dinner." 

"Steve?" Tony asks, stepping forward unsurely. 

"Lord Steven," Wilson grins. "We don't really stand on formality around here – at least not with those of us who knew him during the war." 

Tony nods. 'Steve' sounds like a nice name. Friendly. 

It's probably a trap. 

"Dinner?" Rhodey asks, stepping forward to catch Wilson's scrutinizing gaze. 

"Yeah, Steve asked that Prince Anthony dine with him tonight." Wilson turns to Tony. "If that's okay with you?" 

"Yes, of course," Tony says, with all the confidence he doesn't feel. Will it be dinner alone? Is this where Lord Steven takes his measure? 

"Great. Come with me, I can show you around the castle, get you set up in your rooms. I'll send someone for your things." Wilson gestures toward the stairs, then begins climbing them, slowly so that Tony, Pepper and Rhodey can fall into step with him. 

"What's security like here at the castle?" is the first question Rhodey asks as they step through the large front doors. The entry hall is dimly lit, but decorated warmly. 

Wilson gives him a look. "We take security very seriously here. I take it you're Prince Anthony's bodyguard? We received a note saying he would be coming with a small staff." 

"Captain James Rhodes," Rhodey says, thrusting out a hand to shake. Wilson does so with a firm grip, then turns to give Pepper a genial bow. 

"I'm Prince Anthony's valet," she says to him. "Pepper Potts." 

"A pleasure, Ms. Potts," Wilson says. He leads them to a large room, with echoing, cavernous ceilings. At the far end is a small table, but there's no throne. 

"This is the great hall," Wilson tells them. "Steve's not into the whole 'throne' thing, so we don't have one of those." He rolls his eyes, and while it seems fond, Tony can't help but be struck at the disrespect of it. Howard would probably have had the man beheaded. 

They keep walking through halls while Wilson points out the kitchens, the dining hall, and they begin to move into the residential wings. 

"I'll take you through this wing first – it's where I live, and where Bucky and Clint live – Bucky is the captain of the guard, technically, but he's been Steve's friend since they were small, and Clint is his bondmate. Ms. Potts and Captain Rhodes, we've set aside some rooms for you here." 

"So far away from Prince Anthony?" Pepper asks, looking concerned. 

"It's not that far," Wilson says. "Steve never was very good at keeping his distance from his family." 

Wilson shows Pepper and Rhodey their rooms, and Tony has to admit he's impressed. They're not richly furnished or anything, but they're large and aboveground, which is more than he can say for the rooms Howard had allowed them at home. Tiny, dusty, dank little closets, those had been. 

Wilson takes them further down the hall, then they climb a flight of stairs and cross over a viewing alcove into another wing of the castle. 

"Steve's room is down this hall," he says, waving at a hallway as they pass. "But Prince Anthony, we have your room just up this way." 

They turn another corner, and the isolated hallway has three doorways in it. 

Wilson opens the third door, stepping back to allow Tony entry. "This is what we've got set up for your bedchamber, there's a full bath in the back. There are two other rooms in this hall, you can do what you like with them. If you'd rather, you could have Ms. Potts and Captain Rhodes move into them, even. But I assure you, we have a full security team and the halls are guarded day and night." 

"Do you have a lot of security threats?" Rhodey asks, glancing around the large room. This one is furnished a little more decadently, with rich red and gold rugs and bedclothes. There's a large window with heavy drapes, but it faces west so Tony can look out over the sea. 

"Nothing specific," Wilson shrugs. "But we're on the edge of the kingdom and Steve got to where he is by beating back more than one invasion into Starkland. He's not hurting for enemies, and he prefers to be cautious." 

Wilson steps a little further into the room, guiding the group toward a door in the back of it. "Here's your bath, a small sitting room, storage." He glances at a clock on the wall of the room. "I'll leave you to freshen up now – dinner is in a little more than an hour." 

Tony glances at the clock as well. "Anywhere specific I need to go?" 

Wilson smirks at him a little. "Steve told me to tell you he'll come down here to find you, and take you to dinner himself." 

"Ah," Tony responds, not really sure how he's supposed to feel about that. 

Wilson leaves the room, then, closing the door softly behind him. 

Tony turns to Pepper, eyes wide. "I have been on the road for two weeks, Pep, I need a bath more than I need _air_." 

"I'll start one for you right now," she says soothingly, heading toward the bathroom. 

Tony turns to Rhodey, trying to keep his panic tamped down. "Can you go see how long until my trunks are up here? I need clean clothes, I need, I don't know, everything?" 

Rhodey gives him a soft smile. "It's going to be okay, Tony. It's just dinner." 

"It is literally anything but _just dinner_ ," Tony snaps, and Rhodey chuckles to himself as he leaves the room to, presumably, check on the status of their trunks. 

Tony heads into the bathroom, reaching for the hem of his shirt but then stopping dead in his tracks as he looks around the bathroom. 

There's a fireplace in the corner with a large cauldron. There's already a fire under it to heat the water inside, and there's another cauldron of water beside that, likely room temperature. 

Pepper is looking around with wide eyes, as well. 

"They don't have aqueducts here," Tony says, his voice quiet as he stares at the chamberpot across the room. "Oh my god, they don't have _running water_." 

"It's… it'll be okay, Tony," Pepper says, not sounding at all sure. "Really, I'm sure it's just… it's not…" She stops. "They don't have running water, no. But it looks like the staff has already started your hot bath so I guess I'll just, um, fill the tub? With the water?" 

"Make sure you fill it with enough to drown me," Tony moans. 


	3. Meeting

When Steve finds himself walking down the corridors of the castle toward Prince Anthony's hallway, he wants nothing more than to turn tail and run. He's faced down Hydra hordes, warriors and beasts and he's even faced down Natasha on a bad day, but the idea of meeting his Omega Consort has him tied up in knots. 

Natasha had been right – he needs to treat the man kindly, but Steve would be doing that anyway. 

And Steve has always been awkward when it comes to dating, so going into this knowing he and the prince are already bonded is making it that much more daunting. 

But he's Steve Rogers, so backing down here isn't an option. 

He arrives at Prince Anthony's bedroom door, and takes a deep, fortifying breath before he reaches up for the heavy iron knocker and announces his presence. 

A dark-skinned man opens the door, and Steve blinks. He'd never actually _met_ Maria but he'd thought she'd been light skinned. Oh well, it doesn't matter. The man isn't tall, and he's slim. His eyes are striking against his dark skin. Steve bows deeply, trying to keep his nerves from showing. 

"Prince Anthony, it's a pleasure to meet you," Steve says. "I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance for some time. You're as handsome as I'd –" 

"Your highness, I'm Captain James Rhodes," the man interrupts him, obviously trying to keep himself from laughing. "I'm Prince Anthony's bodyguard." 

Steve blinks, feels his cheeks heat. Off to a great start, then. 

"Right, of course. Um. Good to meet you, Captain." 

"Prince Anthony is just about finished dressing," Rhodes tells him. "He'll be out shortly." 

"That's good," Steve says, wondering if he can jump through that window at the end of the hallway and survive the landing. He gives his head a small shake, then remembers his manners. "I trust you had a comfortable journey?" 

"It was long, but it was fine," Rhodes tells him. "Thank you for a warm welcome into your home. Ms. Potts and I care very deeply about the welfare of the prince." 

"Of course," Steve says. "Any friend of Prince Anthony's is…" 

The words trail off when the young man comes up behind Rhodes. He's not as tall as Steve, and he's slim, but Steve can tell that his limbs are corded with muscle. He has thick dark hair that curls at the ends, and sharply trimmed facial hair that frames his beautiful, angular face. 

He's stunning. 

His eyes are a rich, dark brown, and Steve wants to study them, to see if they really fleck gold in the candlelight, or if it's just his imagination. 

The young man dips into a shallow bow, the red silk of his shirt shining in the low light. His eyes fall to the floor, submissive and deferential. 

"My lord," the young man says, keeping his head bowed. Steve desperately wants him to look up again so he can stare into the young man's eyes. 

"May I present his highness, Prince Anthony Stark," Rhodes says, stepping to the side. "Prince Anthony, Lord Steven Rogers – your Alpha." 

Prince Anthony swallows, his throat bobbing with the force of it, then stands up, looking up at Steve from underneath his black eyelashes. Steve is mesmerized by the way Prince Anthony's eyes are so sharply framed, and wonders if he's wearing kohl around the rims to define them better, or if it's fully natural. 

Whatever the reason, Steve can't stop looking at him. 

In fact, Steve can't stop looking at him for long enough that it begins to get incredibly awkward. 

"Of course," Steve finally says, tearing his eyes away from Prince Anthony's. He gestures to the hallway behind him. "I was – I was hoping to take you to dinner, Prince – Prince Anthony." 

"I would love to," the prince says, taking a deep breath. He flicks a small smile up toward Steve and Steve feels his heart pound at the beauty of it. He needs to see it again, and he resolves himself to finding ways to make Prince Anthony smile as frequently as possible. 

Steve holds his arm out before he can stop himself, and after a bare moment's hesitation, Prince Anthony steps forward and slips his hand into the crook of Steve's elbow. 

"If you and Ms. Potts are looking for company, most days everyone gathers in the main dining hall for supper," Steve tells Rhodes. "Or you can take supper in your rooms if you prefer. Just stop by the kitchens and let them know." 

"Thanks, your highness," Rhodes says, giving Prince Anthony a reassuring smile. Steve supposes it does make sense the prince is nervous – god knows Steve is. 

Steve leads him back down the hallway, through the corridor and back to his own rooms. Luckily, there's a private dining room that he'd told the staff he wanted them to dine in. The _last_ thing Steve wants is to take Prince Anthony through to his bedroom. 

Well, okay, that's not strictly true. That's just not something he wants to do _right now_. Because it would be entirely too awkward. 

Much like the silence between them as they walk down the hall. 

"So, I asked the kitchen to roast some elk for us, if that's okay?" 

"I'm sure it will be fine," Prince Anthony tells him. 

"I mean, I, uh, I have a pretty high metabolism, so I tend to eat a lot? But, well, there'll be plenty, so you don't have to worry about that." God, could he sound like any more of an idiot? 

Prince Anthony just smiles at him, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes – it's not anything like the beautiful little smile Steve had seen a few moments ago. 

Steve leads him into the dining room and pulls out a chair for him, tucking it in as Prince Anthony sits down. He takes a deep breath, then goes around to the other side of the table to find his own seat. It's a smaller table, but there's still quite a bit of space between the two of them. 

"So," Steve starts, after another moment of unbearable silence. "What do you like to, um, do for fun?" 

"Nothing – nothing special, really," Prince Anthony says. His eyes take on a panicked look. "I don't – what do _you_ do for entertainment? When you're not busy with your, um, your duties?" 

Steve reaches out to pour them each some wine. "Oh, you know. I read. I like to run, sometimes." 

"I… enjoy reading as well," Prince Anthony says, looking as uncomfortable as Steve feels. "I'm afraid I don't have a lot of practice at running, my lord, but I could –" 

"Steve," he interrupts, putting the wine bottle down on the table. He's rough with it, and a droplet of red liquid slides down the side of it, staining the wood. 

"I'm sorry, my lord?" Prince Anthony looks entirely confused. Steve understands – he hadn't known it was going to come out of his mouth up until the moment it was already between them. 

"Call me Steve," he says. "I don't – everyone around here calls me Steve. Except, I mean, some of the house staff and the townspeople. But, I mean, everyone who lives here… they knew me before. They're my friends. They all call me Steve, and I'd… I'd like it if you did, too." 

"I see," Prince Anthony says, looking deep in thought. "It will take some getting used to, but I can try." 

"Great," Steve says. 

"You – you can call me Tony, if you like. Steve." 

Steve grins at him, then. Tony. He likes that. 

"Good, then. That's settled." 

A light flush dusts Prince Anthony's – _Tony's_ – cheeks. 

Steve is saved, temporarily at least, from any further awkwardness when one of the kitchen staff enters with a large serving trolley. He places a plate in front of each of them, filled with roasted elk, some spiced sauce, and some roasted potatoes. There's even a small pile of purple cabbage on the plate, and a rich, red slice of tomato. The kitchens had gone all out, it seems. They haven't got a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables, after the failed harvest. 

"So," Steve says, once the young man leaves them alone again. He gestures to Tony's plate. "Eat up." 

Tony's hands are long-fingered, delicate and sure as they pick up his utensils and cut away a tiny little piece of elk from the steak on his plate. He uses his fork to bring the tiny morsel to his mouth, and Steve finds his gaze lingering there, on Tony's smooth, pink lips. 

He really is beautiful. 

"It's delicious," Tony says after he's chewed and swallowed his bite. He glances up under his lashes and catches Steve's gaze still on him, and his cheeks flush again. 

"Good," Steve says, tearing his eyes away. He cuts off a substantially larger piece of meat for himself, thrusting it into his mouth before he can say anything else inane. 

They eat quietly for a few minutes, the awkwardness stretching between them. 

"So," Steve finally says, desperate to make the evening comfortable. "Tell me about yourself." 

Tony blinks at him for a long moment. "I don't…" He trails off, shrugging helplessly. 

"Okay, well, um, I'll start," Steve says. "I guess you know I fought in the war." 

"Yes, I'd heard that," Tony says, one corner of his mouth twitching, and the sparkle in his eyes draws Steve in like a magnet. 

Steve gives him a look, and the sparkle softens a little into a warmth Steve hadn't even dared to hope he'd see. He flushes with pleasure at it, then continues talking. "Do you… have any questions about that?" 

Tony pauses thoughtfully, using a knife to smear a tiny bit of butter onto some bread. "I'd heard… well, I'd heard something about an elixir? I heard a lot of things about what it did to you, which obviously aren't true, but I wondered, is there any truth to it at all?" 

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Well, what did you hear?" 

"Well, the rumour mill of the kingdom works overtime when it comes to war heroes, you know," Tony replies. "There were tales of an elixir that had made you 10 feet tall, of course." He gestures at Steve. "I'd peg you at around six-foot-three, if I had to." 

"Six-two, but thank you," Steve smiles. 

"Right. Well, so there was that. I don't suppose it gave you the secret of immortality?" 

Steve smirks. "Nope, just as fragile as the next guy, I guess." 

"And there were rumours of your – well, I mean–" Tony blushes dark red, casting his eyes down to his plate. "That's about it," he finishes lamely. 

Steve tilts his head, eyeing Tony for a while. The Omega keeps blushing, using his fork to move food around on his plate without actually taking a bite of it. 

"I grew up pretty sick," Steve finally says, keeping his tone light and gentle. "I was never well. I was a wisp of a thing, I could barely climb a flight of stairs. But I wanted to help with the war." 

"Very noble of you," Tony says, very quietly. 

"Nah. I just never liked bullies, and if anyone was a bully, it was Hydra. So I went to see an apothecary in the village. I didn't expect… I just wanted to be healthier, really. So I could do my part and fight. But he had something different, something special. It made me healthy, sure, but it also made me taller and stronger and faster." 

"You must have been grateful." 

"I was," Steve agrees. "I went to the front, put together a team, and we fought our way into Hydra's castle and defeated the Red Skull." 

"And my father awarded you a kingdom." 

"The apothecary died," Steve says carefully. "While I was away at the war. I never got to – to thank him. He had only made the one potion, there wasn't anymore." 

"But it's permanent?" 

"Sure," Steve says. "But what I did… what I was able to do. I didn't do it alone, Tony. I didn't – I didn't _ask_ for a kingdom, I didn't expect it." 

"I see," Tony says, eyes shuttering. 

Steve wants to pinch himself. He'd been doing well, he'd thought. Tony had seemed interested in the story, invested in it. What had he said wrong? 

"But I have it now," Steve soldiers on. "I'm just… I'm just trying to say that I'm not… I know what you – what you learned. What your lessons were in. I know you were sent here like some kind of, I don't know, property. And I want you to know that I don't… think of it like that. I don't _want_ that. I want to get to know you, as a person. You're an Omega Consort, yes, and all that that entails but, Tony… first and foremost, you're my bondmate." 

"I…" 

"At the very least," Steve says, voice low, "I'd like for us to try to be friends?" 

He's denied an answer when the same kitchen boy comes into the room bearing a tray with small cakes on it, and Tony stares at the table while the boy, aggravatingly, seems to take his time in clearing their plates and placing the cakes in front of them. 

Tony stares at the cake for a long time, not even moving to eat any of it when Steve starts in on his own. It's heavy and sweet, with some kind of jelly in the centre of it. 

It sits heavy in his belly, mostly because he's sure he's said something to offend Tony. But he'd been compelled to tell him that he hadn't contracted with King Howard to get some kind of sex slave, that _that_ wasn't what he'd wanted out of this deal. But he'd also had the wherewithal to make sure he hadn't told Tony that Steve had never _wanted_ him here. 

"We'll have to consummate the bond," Steve finally says, keeping his voice gentle. "But after that, if you don't want–" 

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Tony asks, jerking his head up, looking panicked. "Of course I – you're my Alpha, and anything you want to do to – with me, I would want that–" 

"Tony," Steve says, face screwing up in horror. "Tony, no, that's not – I'm just saying, you're not _obligated_ to. After your heat. We can – we don't have much out here in America, I'll admit, but Bruce, he's our doctor, he can make up some suppressant potions for you, if you like, and we can – I just don't want you to feel like you _have_ to." 

Tony stares at him, face still pale. "I would," he says, swallowing hard, "very much like to do whatever would make you happy." 

"That's nice, Tony, but–" 

"And I'm well-educated when it comes to an Alpha's pleasure, my lord. I was, well, I was born for this." 

"You are more than a Consort, Tony." 

"Am I?" Tony asks, arching an eyebrow before catching himself and staring back down at the table. 

Steve loves the little quirk of personality, and decides he needs to see more. 

"I think so," Steve says quietly. He's got to back off, he doesn't want to spook the poor man on his first night here. 

"I think – I'm quite tired," Tony says, wiping his mouth with a napkin and setting it aside. He hasn't touched his cake. "It's been a long day of travel, I should probably head to bed for the night." 

"Sure," Steve says, pushing away from the table. He leaps up and moves to Tony's chair to pull it out and help him stand. "I'll walk you back." 

"I remember the way," Tony says, moving toward the door. "You don't have to." 

"Tony, wait," Steve says, running a hand through his hair roughly. "I know I – I'm not very good at this," he admits. "I don't want you to think… I don't know what I said, but I just want to. Well, I want to get to know you." 

Tony doesn't say anything for a long moment, but he stops fleeing. 

"You'll change your mind," he finally says. His voice is quiet, as though he's admitting it under duress. "Once you get to know me, you'll wish you didn't." 

Steve stares at him, unsure what to say to that. Tony doesn't really give him a chance to think of much, before he's out the door and gone. 

Steve stares at the doorway for a long time. 

That had gone spectacularly badly. 

+++++ 

Steve decides to seek out Sam after dinner. He needs advice about what to do with Tony – how can he get to know him when Tony won't answer any questions, will barely look him in the eye? 

He could go to Bucky, but he feels like Sam will be the better bet. 

At least Sam's less likely to tease him for his absolute uselessness when it comes to wooing a guy who is already _bonded_ to him. God. 

Steve makes his way out to the aviary, fairly certain Sam will be out there tending to the hawks and the ravens. He's not disappointed. 

Sam is feeding Redwing, his favourite of the hawks, little bits of meat and stroking his feathers. 

"Hey, Sam," Steve says, announcing his presence as he walks in. 

"Steve, hey," Sam answers, glancing up from what he's doing. "Didn't expect to see you tonight. Dinner go okay?" 

Steve moves forward, letting himself sink onto a small bench near Sam. "Well, I mean, we ate food and neither of us choked, so sure. We'll call it a success." 

Sam grimaces, giving Redwing the last piece of meat and coming over to sit with Steve. "That bad?" 

"It's not like he stormed off in a huff, it was just… awkward." 

"Awkward. Your first meeting with your shiny new bondmate, awkward? Surely you jest." 

"Maybe I should have gone looking for Bucky, at least I _know_ he's gonna make fun of me." 

Sam snorts, leaning back. "Tell me about dinner, Steve." 

"I just don't know how to talk to him," Steve says. "It's like he's afraid to say anything to me, like he doesn't know the answers to simple questions. What does he like to do, what does he like to eat, what was it like growing up a prince – he seemed _terrified_ of me." 

Sam stares at him for a beat. 

"What?" Steve asks, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. 

"I love you, Steve," Sam says after a moment. "I want you to know that. You're a very good friend, and you're very heroic. People look up to you. I'm telling you this so that when I tell you this next part, you understand it's coming from a place of love. You can be _really_ , really dense." 

Steve gives him a puzzled look. 

"He seemed terrified of you because he _is_ terrified of you." 

"I didn't–" 

"Oh, it's nothing you did, Cap. He's probably been afraid of you for years." 

"He was only bonded to me a couple of weeks ago." 

"Sure, but do you think that's the first time he ever thought of the Alpha he was going to be bonded to? You gotta remember, Steve, he spent years at that Consort academy. He's been training for this, learning how to be what you want from him. But think about it – they don't know what Alpha someone's gonna be sent to, so they have to cover all their bases." 

"What do you mean?" 

"So, an Omega Consort is gonna go to an Alpha, usually, right? That's just how this works, that's the point of the Consort training – to be the perfect mate for some nebulous, powerful Alpha. Kings and queens, rich folks, powerful folks. Those are the kind of people who are gonna get these Omegas, right?" 

"Sure." 

"So, how many Kings and queens and rich and powerful folks do you know?" Sam doesn't give Steve a chance to answer. "Now, how many of those people do you _like_?" 

Steve blinks at him. 

"So he was taught to assume he was going to be bonded to some asshole Alpha somewhere." 

"Exactly. And it's even more than that. What do you suppose all those asshole Alphas are gonna want with an Omega Consort? Some young, pretty thing trained in all the ways to please an Alpha?" 

Steve feels his face heat, and an inexplicable anger burning in his throat. 

Sam, again, doesn't wait for an answer. "So as far as Prince Anthony knows, you're some scary lord who's going to treat him the way he's been taught to expect – like his wants and needs are secondary, unimportant, and he's not much more than a body to warm your bed." 

"That's _not–_ " Steve starts, wholly offended. 

"I know that, Steve. _I_ know that. But he doesn't know that. You gotta _show_ him that." 

"How?" 

Sam smirks at him. "You just gotta be you, man. You're kind, and generous, and kind of a dork. Just be gentle with him. Convince him you're not what he expects." 

Steve watches the birds for a long moment, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. 

"He told me to call him 'Tony,'" he finally says. "He said – he said I could call him Tony. Instead of Prince Anthony." 

Sam gives him a warm, wide smile, and it brightens the gloom of the room immediately. "See, that right there? That's what you'd call a good start." 

+++++ 

The next day, Steve is in his office going through their ledgers, trying to concentrate. He's not having a lot of luck with it – he's thinking about Tony, and about what Sam had said to him last night. A knock on the door, thankfully, interrupts him. 

"Come in," he says, looking up gratefully. Bucky comes in, with Bruce, the castle's doctor in tow. 

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky says, flopping into the chair across from him. Bruce comes in with more dignity, moving with purpose until he can sit in the third chair. 

"Buck. Bruce, good to see you." 

"So I had an interesting visit in my office this morning," Bruce begins, looking mildly uncomfortable. Of course, 'mildly uncomfortable' is Bruce's default state, so Steve doesn't think too much of it. "From Ms. Potts, the prince's valet?" 

"Okay?" Steve asks, leaning back. "Was she looking for suppressants? That's not a problem, right?" 

"No, no, she wasn't looking for – she was trying to schedule the prince's appointment." 

Steve frowns. "With you? Is – is he not feeling well?" 

"No," Bruce says, squirming uncomfortably. "No, that's not it. It was, um, about a – an exam? A virtue exam?" 

Steve feels his blood run cold, and glances at Bucky, hoping it's a joke. The grim expression on Bucky's face tells him it isn't. 

"What do you mean, a virtue exam?" Steve asks through clenched teeth. 

Bruce lets out a breath. Ms. Potts seemed to think it was standard, but I've never – I've never performed one. I know how, but it isn't–" 

"What do you _mean_ , a _virtue_ exam?" Steve repeats. 

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes. "It's an exam to make sure he's never been knotted before," he says. "You _know_ what it is, I don't know why you gotta make him explain it." 

"And you told her it was unnecessary, right?" 

"Well…" Bruce starts, and Steve pushes up from his chair, looming as well as he can in the well-lit room. 

"Bruce. You told her it was unnecessary." He doesn't even make it a question this time. 

"Is it?" Bucky asks. 

"What?" Steve rounds on him. "What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell makes you think I give a damn about – about who he might have–" 

"It's not _about_ what you care about," Bucky tells him, standing up and getting in his face. He doesn't raise his voice, though – Bucky almost never does. 

"But it's so – it's so _invasive_. He's not a piece of _meat_ that you can just inspect for _quality_." 

"It's expected," Bucky says. 

"It doesn't even make sense! He's a Consort – he's been taught to – of _course_ he's had sex before, what's the point of the exam?" 

"He's had sex with Betas," Bucky points out. "Maybe even other Omegas. But there's a reason, specifically, Bruce is going to check for an Alpha knot test." 

"No, Bruce is _not_ ," Steve says. "We're going to skip that part, there's no reason for Tony to go through that." 

Bucky stares at him. "That exam is gonna be a hell of a lot easier on him than what's gonna happen if we don't do it." 

"What do you mean?" Steve asks. 

"Bruce has to _announce_ the results, Steve." 

Steve wants to _deck_ someone. "What?" 

"It has to be _public_ , Steve. Not the exam itself, but the results. The whole kingdom – Starkland, not America – has to know that Prince Anthony came here with his virtue intact." 

"I don't give a _fuck_ about his virtue," Steve growls. Bucky doesn't back down, though – if anything, he leans in, nose to nose with Steve. 

"The rest of the kingdom _does_ ," he says. "You don't do this exam? The whole kingdom knows. You skip the exam and have Bruce lie about it? Same thing, everyone knows. And what do they assume? They assume you're lying because Anthony came here _without_ his virtue intact. It makes you look the fool because Howard sold you a used Omega." 

"He didn't _sell_ –" 

"Not how the kingdom's gonna see it." 

"I don't _give a shit_. He's a _person_ , Bucky." 

"I know that, and you know that, but literally no one else does." Bucky holds up a hand to stop Steve's next protest. "If you don't give a shit how the rest of the kingdom sees you, think about it from _his_ perspective, okay? If Prince Anthony can't prove he's virtuous, he's automatically branded your whore Omega. The whole kingdom will look at him and assume the worst. I _know_ you don't want that." 

Steve glares mutinously at him for a long time. "I hate this." 

"Don't we all, pal," Bucky says, clapping him on the shoulder. 

"Let me – let me talk to Tony about it, okay? Before you – before you do anything." He directs this last to Bruce, who just nods. 

"Of course." 

"You know I'm right," Bucky says. 

"I want to talk to him," Steve says again. 

+++++ 

Steve knocks on the door to Tony's chambers. The door is opened by Rhodes, who gives him a slight nod, opening the door wider. 

"Your highness." 

"Is To – is Prince Anthony in?" 

Rhodes arches an eyebrow at him, then backs away from the door. "I'll let him know you're here." 

Steve waits in the hallway, fingers drumming nervously on his thigh. 

"Hello." Tony's at the door, looking soft and beautiful. He's dressed down as compared to the day before, though he looks a little flustered. "It's good to see you, my lord." 

"It's – it's still Steve. If you want." 

Tony smiles at him, then, and it's warm. "Steve, then. How may I be of service?" 

"I just – I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?" 

"Of course," Tony says, pulling the door open and gesturing Steve inside. 

Rhodes and Potts are there, talking quietly between themselves. 

"Now, what can I do for you?" Tony asks, gesturing to a chair for Steve to sit down. Tony remains standing until Steve is seated, then sits across from him. 

"I wanted – I wanted to talk to you," Steve says again, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. "About… something." 

Tony looks at him expectantly. 

Steve takes a deep breath. "Bruce, the doctor, came to see me earlier. Apparently Ms. Potts was trying to make an… appointment for you?" 

A light blush dusts Tony's cheeks, and he's beautiful. "Yes, of course. Was there – did you want to be present?" Tony asks 

Steve rears back. "What? _No_. No, not at all, Tony – I wanted to let you know you don't _have_ to, if you don't want to." 

Tony blinks at him, confused. "Don't want to what?" 

"Have the exam?" Steve says. 

Tony continues to blink, no less confused. "I don't understand." 

"I'm saying – I trust you. If you don't – I know it's really invasive, and it's not _right_ because you aren't _livestock_ , christ, and you don't have to do it if you don't want to." 

"Why wouldn't I want to do it?" Tony asks, still as confused as ever. 

Steve is rescued from his floundering when Ms. Potts clears her throat, drawing both their attention across the room. 

"Your highness, if I may?" 

"Please," Steve says, not sure if he's begging her to translate the apparent communication breakdown between the two of them, or just to put him out of his misery altogether. 

"Prince Anthony, I believe his highness is just concerned that you might find the procedure invasive, or uncomfortable. Your highness, Prince Anthony is quite used to these exams – not only are they important to track his health, but they were performed every six months at the academy. It's a medical procedure the prince is quite used to." 

Steve blinks at her. "But… you don't _have_ to," he stresses, looking back at Tony. "I'm saying… I trust you. And even if I didn't think you'd – I don't care. It wouldn't bother me." 

Tony blushes again. "I don't mind," he says quietly, then adds a moment later, "Steve." 

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel obligated." 

"I _am_ obligated," Tony says. "But I truly don't mind." 

"I don't care if you're a virgin," Steve blurts out, because he needs to make Tony understand this. "It – it doesn't matter to me. Either way, I'll–" 

Tony gives him another small smile, and even that much soothes the cacophony in Steve's head a little. He doesn't answer, though. 

"Thank you, your highness," Ms. Potts says, and Steve looks between them, and at Rhodes, for a moment before he stands. 

"I just wanted to tell you that," he says lamely, gesturing toward the door. "I'll… get out of your hair." 

"It was good to see you, Steve," Tony says, voice soft. 

Steve swallows, smiling back. "It was good to see you, too." 

Then he leaves the room. Bruce is in the hallway, waiting for him. 

"You can… go ahead and schedule whatever you need to," Steve says. "But whatever the result… I don't want to hear about it, okay?" 

Bruce blinks at him. "I've got to tell the kingdom. If his hymen's intact." 

"Do what you need to do," Steve sighs. "But _I_ don't want to hear about it." 

"What if it isn't?" 

"I really don't care," Steve tells him, then heads down the hall back toward his office. 


	4. Blooming

The appointment with Dr. Banner goes well. Tony had expected it to – he is, after all, still untouched by an Alpha – but he wouldn't have put it past his father to plant some misleading evidence or buy the doctor off entirely just to embarrass him. So, either his father had left it alone, or his attempt to make the doctor lie had been unfruitful. 

Howard Stark is stubborn enough that Tony is fairly certain it's not the latter. 

Tony stands proudly beside the doctor out in the main square when he makes the announcement, surveying over the men and women that are now, apparently, his subjects. Lord Steven – Steve isn't there, though. 

In fact, the crowd itself is quite small. He sees Wilson near the front, with a couple of other men. One has shaggy, dirty blonde hair, while the other has dark hair grown out to his shoulders, and only one arm. Ah. That must be Steve's friend, then, the Beta from before the war. 

Their dinner the other night had been awkward, but at least Tony knows a little bit more about some of the people in the palace. Not that he's seen much of them – he's mostly stayed in his Chambers with Pepper and Rhodey, trying to stave off his heat. 

Not that he has any control over his heat whatsoever. He misses the suppressants desperately. He wonders if Steve had really meant it when he said Tony could go back on them after they… consummate. 

God, he's terrified of that. He knows what to expect but he doesn't _know_ what to expect. And he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask about Steve's knot, because how exactly do you bring that up over dinner with your new bondmate? "Oh, hey, I heard the potion you took made your knot the size of my head can you not shove it in me please?" 

No, that's a surefire way to get himself sent back to Howard in disgrace, to spend the rest of his days in exile. 

Although, some days exile doesn't sound all that bad. 

The worst part of all of it is that Steve is so fucking _handsome_. God, it's disgusting. He's tall, and his shoulders are a mile wide, and his hands are big and soft-looking and gentle and strong. Christ. Tony had barely been able to stop staring at him the whole night. 

But now, the day they're announcing his virginity to the kingdom – for Steve's benefit – he's not even around? 

Tony had thought, maybe, Steve had liked him, at least a little bit. At least, he hadn't treated Tony like dirt on his shoe, or anything. Hadn't Steve wanted to be here for this? Sure, he'd said he didn't care whether Tony was a virgin, but those are just words. He should still be here to confirm it, to make sure Howard hadn't sent some whoring, used-up Omega. 

Actually, the whole crowd seems disinterested, and Dr. Banner speaks as quickly and as quietly as possible, looking nervous and uncomfortable, and then… it's over. Banner is walking down the steps in the square, off the raised area, and Tony, with nothing better to do, follows after him, blinking. 

He doesn't understand this place. At home, this kind of announcement is met with all the pomp and circumstance it requires. There are speeches, maybe a nice religious song about abstinence, and the crowd is excited. 

Here, the small group gathered looks more like the only thing they're feeling is obligation. 

Tony steps down into the packed snow, taking his customary place between Rhodey and Pepper. 

"So that was weird," he murmurs under his breath. "Where's Lord Steven?" 

"He's not here," Pepper says, sounding thoughtful. She looks like she's about to say something else, but then her face changes, taking on a polite but scrutinizing smile looking over Tony's shoulder. 

He glances back and sees why – Steve's one-armed friend is on his way over, his Beta mate following after him. 

"Your highness," Steve's friend – he'd called him Bucky? But that can't be right – bows slightly, then stands and peers at Tony. His gaze is sharp, interested, and searching. Like he's trying to see through Tony into the very core of him. 

Well, better men than _him_ have tried, so Tony wishes him luck with that. 

"I wanted to introduce myself," he continues. "I'm James Barnes, I'm the Captain of the Guard here in America, and a good friend to Lord Steven." 

"Ah, yes, Lord Steven told me about you." 

"Did he?" Barnes' face is implacable. 

"Oh, yes," Tony says, nodding exaggeratedly. "Absolutely." 

Barnes stares at him for another moment, then deftly steps to the side and gestures at the man with him. "This is my mate, Clint Barton." 

"Your highness," Clint says, bowing. "It's nice to meet you." 

Tony gives him a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Barton. It's nice to meet you, as well." 

"Call me Clint," he says, making a face. "You start calling me 'mister' and I'll get a complex." 

Tony grins again, and this time it feels real and natural. "I will, then." 

"So, are you finding everything to your liking?" Barnes asks, jumping back into the conversation. "Need anything? Everyone's treating you okay?" 

"Yes, the staff has been great," Tony says. "I haven't met many of the townspeople, but I hope to in the coming weeks." 

He feels an itch under his skin, a prickle of warmth. They're happening more and more frequently now as his heat draws closer. It will surely only be another day or two. 

And then… it doesn't bear thinking about. 

"So, you're King Howard's heir," Barnes says, and it sounds not-quite light. Ah. Tony supposes he should have expected suspicion. The highest ruler's only son sent off to bond with a provincial Lord at the edge of the kingdom – and most people wouldn't know just how very much Howard hates his Omega son. 

"Son. Heir would suggest I had the opportunity to inherit anything of his." 

"You know, I never got that rule," Clint says, crossing his arms. 

Tony gives him a wan smile. He'd like nothing more than to launch into a diatribe about the unfairness of Omega property laws and Omega rights, but Barnes' eyes are sharp. Tony won't be caught badmouthing the Crown or the laws, not when he's surrounded by people he can't trust. 

Another wave of the heat catches him off guard, and a bead of sweat sprouts at his hairline. 

Tony takes a lace kerchief from his pocket and uses it to dab at the spot, giving Barnes and Clint another polite smile. "My apologies," he says, tucking the kerchief back into his coat. "I hate to be rude," he says, pushing his shoulders back, "but I've got things I have to tend to this afternoon." 

Barnes studies him. "Why are you here?" 

Tony blinks. He'll gives Barnes that much – Tony's so used to the backhanded politeness and subversive niceties of high society that he hadn't expected the question to be so blunt. Though, it is a nice change – he decides he respects it. 

He glances between the Betas, and Clint breaks the mould as well, by just staring at Tony, waiting for an answer, instead of trying to shush his mate for his rudeness. 

"Huh," Tony says, giving them both a nonchalant grin. "I'll admit I wouldn't have expected you to just come right out and ask it." 

"We don't do things in the shadows in America," Barnes tells him. "We're honest around here – about what we do, what we want, and who we are. Can you say the same?" 

"Oh, god, no," Tony says, a laugh startled out of him. "I don't think anyone's told the truth in Starkland in 10 years." 

Clint smirks, but Barnes' face remains impassive. "That's not exactly instilling me with confidence," he says. 

Tony huffs in a very unprincely manner. "I'd be shocked if it did," he admits. "But you didn't ask me if I was honest, you asked me why I was here. Do you think I'll be honest if I tell you?" 

Barnes shrugs a little. "Won't know until you try." 

Tony gives a sharp little nod. "I'm here because I've been bonded to your Lord. I'm grateful for the opportunity to be bonded to such a strong, powerful Alpha, to help him run his household and his kingdom. I look forward to offering any and all assistance that I can when it comes to navigating the politics of kingdoms, and bringing him happiness in all the ways that I can." 

Clint cringes a little, but Barnes continues to stare at him for a long moment. 

"I don't think you're all that excited to be here," he finally says. "But I don't think you're here to hurt him, and that's the only thing I give a shit about." 

Tony blinks – he wouldn't have expected Barnes to be perceptive enough to sniff out the little white lies. 

"I'm not," he says, and it's a little quiet. "I would never." 

Barnes looks like he's about to say something else, but Wilson comes up behind him, popping his head between Clint's and Barnes', and slapping them both on the shoulders. 

"Hey guys, everyone having a good time, getting to know each other with no hostility whatsoever?" 

Tony smiles, and it's back to one of the more natural ones. "Everything's fine, Mr. Wilson." 

"Your highness, Steve asked me to come find you, actually," Wilson says, stepping through between the Betas. "If you'd like to join him in the garden?" 

Tony hadn't realized there was a garden here. Maybe America will be more than snow and frigid water, after all. 

"I'd love to," he says, nodding a bow to Clint and Barnes. "It was nice to meet you both." 

"Pleasure's all ours," Barnes says, and Tony can't smell a lie in it. 

+++++ 

Wilson takes him to a high stone wall, and a heavy wooden gate. Pepper and Rhodey follow along behind them, of course. 

When Wilson gets to the door, he steps aside and gestures to it. "He asked if you'd come in alone, actually, if Ms. Potts and Captain Rhodes were okay with it." 

Tony arches an eyebrow behind him at his friends. If Steve had any intention of hurting him outside of knotting, he would have done so the evening they had dinner together. Rhodey looks put upon, but Pepper gives him an encouraging smile. 

"Thanks," Tony says to Wilson. He reaches for the handle in the gate, pushing the door open. 

The garden is like a completely different world. Where the rest of the countryside is white and cold with the snow, the square parcel of land behind the stone wall is green, lush, and warm. The sun shines overhead, even though Tony had _just_ been outside and he knows it's a gray, cool day. 

He stares around at his surroundings in shock. 

Steve is standing a few feet away, in front of a bright green shrub. He's got a bundle of plants in his hands, and there's a little white butterfly – a _butterfly_ – fluttering around his head. 

"Hi," Steve says, grinning at him. Tony's heart actually might skip a beat – it's a warm, handsome smile, and his blue eyes are twinkling in the sunlight, and he's so beautiful it hurts. 

"What is this place?" Tony asks, whirling around to take the rest of it in. The gate has closed behind him, and the stone wall is surrounded by lush rosebushes. An honest-to-god peacock wanders by across the stone path. There's even a fountain in the centre, with white flowers and lilypads in the water. He can hear the singing of frogs. "It's _winter_." 

Steve grins again, and this time it's almost conspiratorial. "We had a powerful wizard come through a few months back. We helped him out with a little problem, and as a thank-you gift, he charmed the garden to bloom through the winter. Not as useful as, say, boosting the harvest, but still a nice gesture." 

"It's amazing in here. How are you not here every day?" 

Steve steps forward, smile softening. "Usually it's open for all the townspeople to enjoy. But I wanted us to be alone the first time you saw it." 

Tony swallows, feels his throat bobbing, and glances down at the handful of plants in Steve's hands. 

"These are for you," Steve says, thrusting them out. "I picked them myself." 

Tony reaches for them, but he stops himself before he can actually touch them. 

Steve's face falls a little, and he looks confused. "Is something wrong?" 

"That… elixir you were given. Did it make your skin impenetrable or something?" 

Steve blinks. "Not impenetrable, but, I mean, apparently it accelerated how fast I heal from things. Why?" 

"Well, at least half that bouquet in your hand is poison oak, your highness." 

Steve looks down at his hands in dismay, and Tony tries not to let his lips twitch up in a smile. Steve snorts, then looks abashed. "I'm… not very good at this, I guess." 

"It's a lovely gesture," Tony says. "I'm just afraid to, you know, touch it." 

Steve grins. "So which is the poison oak?" 

"Well, see that green bit there?" 

"Sure," Steve says, moving to pick it out of the bunch. 

"Well, the poison oak is basically everything else," Tony says with a light laugh. Steve's smile widens, and Tony bites his lower lip to try and tamp down his own smile. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I really had no idea." 

Tony feels his cheeks pink a little. "I appreciate the thought. It really is lovely of you." 

"Are the rest okay? I didn't know your favourite flower." 

Tony glances up into Steve's face, feeling a pressure in his chest he can't identify. The truth is, he's touched. No one has ever gone to the trouble of giving him a gift before, even if it is a bundle of poison oak. 

He glances back to the bouquet, eyeing the selection. "Yellow carnations," he points out. 

"I thought they were cheery," Steve tells him. 

"Sure," Tony says, swallowing what he _was_ going to say. 

Steve notices, though. "What's wrong with carnations?" 

"Nothing," Tony says. And it's true – it doesn't matter what they _mean_ , not if the presenter doesn't _know_ what they mean. "They're very nice." 

"Tony," Steve says. It's gentle, but it's still insistent. "What's wrong?" 

"It doesn't matter," Tony says, shaking his head. "You couldn't have known." 

"Tell me what I've done wrong. At least so I don't do it again," Steve says, stepping forward again. He's holding the flowers down by his hip. "Please." 

"I learned a lot about the world when I was at the academy," Tony says, looking down at the cobblestone path. "Some of it more useful than others." 

He waits for Steve to say something, but Steve just waits for him to continue. Tony takes a deep breath. He's 90 per cent certain that Steve won't punish Tony for answering him about the flowers. 

"One of the things they taught us, in our classes, was the language of flowers. Have you heard of the concept?" 

"Not really," Steve shrugs. 

"Well, all flowers have a meaning. Giving a certain type of flower can convey a message to the person you're giving it to. It's more than just 'flowers are a present'. Each individual flower has a meaning, and some of them, together with other flowers, have an entirely different meaning." 

Steve blinks down at his bouquet. "So you're saying the yellow carnations convey a message." 

"Yes," Tony says, sort of hoping Steve won't ask the next question. Of course, Steve is bound to ask it. 

"And what do yellow carnations mean?" 

"It's not important," Tony says again, because it _isn't_. He can see it in Steve's face that he really hadn't meant anything by it. 

"What do yellow carnations mean?" Steve asks, taking another step closer. Tony can almost smell the tang of clean earth, fresh sweat, even coffee on Steve's skin. 

"Lots of flowers have more than one meaning," Tony continues. "Take the yellow rose, for example. On the one hand, it can mean joy, friendship. On the other hand, it can also mean jealousy, a decrease of love." 

"Doesn't seem very clear," Steve says. "And the yellow carnation?" 

"Different colours of carnations have different meanings, too," Tony says, doing his best to dance around the subject without outright lying. "A red carnation is love and pride, while pink is the love of a woman or a mother." 

"And yellow?" 

God, this guy is _stubborn_ , Tony thinks. He takes a deep breath. "Yellow means 'disdain'," he says. "'Disappointment'. Even 'rejection'." 

Steve blinks at him, looking stricken. "Oh, Tony," he says, and Tony can't help but glance up. He's expecting pity, but he doesn't think that's what this is. It's sympathy, maybe. But not outright pity. "I'm not disappointed in you." 

Tony swallows hard, eyes suddenly hot. It's got to be his heat coming on. "Of course not, you hardly know me." 

"Regardless, I'm not disappointed. If anything, I'm impressed. I've been impressed with you since you first got here. You're handsome, you're smart, you're kind – Tony, I never would have given you those, if I'd known. I promise." 

The corner of Tony's mouth ticks up. "I know," he says, surprising himself with the truthfulness of it. 

There's a stone barrel nearby, and Steve stalks over to it and shoves the bundle of plants into it, pushing them down toward the bottom. 

"I'm sorry," he says, coming back, brushing his hands against his pant leg. "I'm not disappointed in you. I could never be disappointed in you." 

And oh, Tony longs for that to be true. Still, a hopeful, confident promise isn't exactly a _lie_ , so he lets it stand. 

"Thank you for the thought," Tony finally says, throat tight. 

They stand there awkwardly together for a while, then Steve brightens up. "Will you show me?" 

"Show you?" 

"The flowers here, in the garden. Will you tell me what they mean?" 

"Oh, but it's so _boring_ ," Tony protests. 

"No, no, I mean it," Steve says, warming to the idea. "That way I won't ever give you poison oak again, and I won't give anyone else any flowers that mean something I don't want them to mean." 

Tony studies him for a moment. "Alright." He starts to walk slowly toward a row of flowers, bushes and stalks planted in a manner that looks haphazard, but flows quite nicely. 

"Alstroemeria," Tony says, pointing to some pink and yellow blooms. "Wealth, prosperity, and fortune. It also means friendship." 

"So that would have been a good choice," Steve sighs. 

Tony grins, though it's still a little shaky. "Probably not a bad start, no." 

"What's that one?" Steve points to a round purple flower. 

"Anemone," Tony says. "That's one of the ones with two meanings. On the one hand, it's fading hope, or having been forsaken. Or, if you look at it as a positive thing, it's 'anticipation'." 

"That's not at all contradictory," Steve says, sarcasm dripping through. 

Tony barks a laugh, and Steve grins at him happily, like he feels like he's done something right. They wander down the rows of flowers while Tony points out their meanings. 

When they get to the end of the row, Steve is smiling again. 

"You keep all that in your head?" 

Tony shrugs. "I have a – a good memory. And the life of an Omega… well, sometimes you have to be able to say something without words." 

Steve's eyes look sad for a moment. "I don't want that to be your life," he says quietly. "I don't want you to feel like you can't say something to me, okay? We're bondmates now. I'd like if, maybe, we could even be friends. If you have something you want to say, I want you to feel comfortable saying it." Steve holds up a hand to forestall Tony's protest, though Tony's not sure what would have come out of his mouth anyway. "Maybe not yet, I'll understand if you need time. But one day, and hopefully soon, I hope you'll feel like you can do that with me." 

"Thank you," Tony says, then, not sure if it's enough. 

They begin to head back down the row toward the gate, Steve trailing slightly behind Tony. When they get back to the beginning of the row, Tony turns, and is shocked to find that Steve's hand is full of another bouquet. A new one. 

White roses, to signify a new beginning. Peony for happy life and good health. Orange roses for fascination, aster for patience, white chrysanthemum for loyalty, and a fistful of myrtle to symbolize good luck and love in a marriage. 

Somehow, Steve had memorized all the meanings Tony had been spouting off about down the row, and on their way back, had picked flowers that seem to sum up exactly what Tony never would have dreamed to hope for in a new bondmate. 

"It's not much," Steve says, holding the bouquet out. "But I thought this might be able to say what I'm struggling so much with." 

Tony can't speak for a moment, and when he does manage to get words out, his voice is thick and cracked. "They're beautiful. Steve – your highness – they're lovely." 

"So are you," Steve says, smiling. 

Tony takes the proffered flowers, holding the bunch up to his face to inhale the soft, perfumey scent of them. He can feel his whole body heat up with the smell, every inch of him feeling warm and safe and happy. 

No one has ever done anything so nice for him. 

Tony, face on fire with a pleased blush, reaches blindly to his left and pulls out a stalk of sweet pea. He shoves it forward gracelessly, and Steve takes it from him. 

"Sweet pea," Tony murmurs, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Departure after having a good time." He swallows. "I had a nice time, today." 

"Me too, Tony," Steve says, eyes roaming all over Tony's face. Tony can feel it, but he can't quite meet the gaze. "I'm sorry about the poison oak, and thank you for teaching me about the flowers. It's nice to be able to… court you. A little. Before." 

Tony does look up at him then, out of surprise. "You don't have to, you know," he says, mouth ticking up at the corner. "Court me, I mean. I'm kind of a sure thing, here." 

Steve's expression, instead of the amused cheekiness Tony had been going for, falls into that look of sympathy again. 

"All the more reason to do it, Tony." 

Tony blinks, unsure what to say. He can't think of anything, so he clutches the new bouquet tightly in his fist, and turns to leave the garden. Warmth hums over his skin, and he can feel a low, warning cramp deep in his belly. 

Of course. Perfect fucking timing. 

"I think – if you want, I'll be, um, ready. This evening," Tony says. He doesn't turn around, still facing the gate away from Steve. "If you'd like." 

Steve doesn't say anything for a long moment, but when he does, his voice is gruff. "I – I'll be ready," he says. "You can come to my chambers." 

Tony nods once, then rushes out of the garden and back into the snowy yard of the palace, face still aflame. 

+++++ 

"It's definitely happening tonight," Tony says, barrelling through the open door to Pepper's chambers. Rhodey follows after him, and Tony ignores the eyeroll he gives Pepper. 

"Are you sure?" she asks. 

Okay, so _maybe_ there had been a false alarm the night before. And the night before that. But now, Tony's sure. He feels a cramp low in his belly, a barely-there moisture in his crack as his hole starts to slick. He feels hot and feverish, distracted and floaty. 

Pepper moves in front of him, which is when he realizes he's pacing. She's holding an empty vase, and there's a strange expression on her face – like she's trying to hide a smile. 

He blinks. Right. A vase. For the flowers. The bouquet of flowers in his hand he's still carrying. 

Flowers Steve had picked for him. 

His cheeks grow hot, and Pepper's smile grows as though she can read his mind and pick out exactly which thought had made him blush. 

"Of course I'm sure," he says, belatedly realizing there had been an extended pause. "I feel like I'm gonna crawl out of my skin." 

"Alright," Pepper says, placing a gentle, soothing hand on his arm. "Okay, Tony. It's going to be okay. We'll go back to your chambers, then, so you can get ready." 

Tony blinks again. Right. Ready. 

Ready to be mounted and knotted by an Alpha. 

"Oh god," he whimpers, giving Pepper his best puppy eyes. "Can you do it for me?" 

She laughs. "You'll be fine, Tony. Lord Steven seems sweet." 

"Right, but he's still an Alpha," he says, watching as Pepper packs up a small bag to take with them. Perfumes and creams and candles. There's more in his chambers – a whole trunk of toiletries designed to help him be as attractive and demure as possible. 

He doesn't mind the primping, truth be told. It's the idea of it, the idea that he has to somehow _coerce_ an Alpha into wanting him by shaving and curling and lifting and colouring. That he's the one that has to do all the work. 

At the same time, he can't help but wonder… will Steve like him? Will Steve, maybe, find him attractive? 

He gives his head a quick shake, following Pepper out of the room. Rhodey brings up the rear, and the three of them march to Tony's rooms. It feels oddly like marching off to war. 

When they get to Tony's rooms, Rhodey stays at the door while Pepper whirls into action. She's laying out tools on the tables – a shaving blade, creams and gels and perfumes, kohl liner. She dumps a pile of lacy underthings on the bed, and Tony's face goes red again. She's seen it all – hell, she'd picked most of it out. And at this point, Tony doesn't have a lot of modesty left. But still, now it's all _real_. He'll truly be going to his Alpha tonight. 

"Strip," she tells him, rearranging things on the table. She picks up a sweet-smelling soap and the shaving blade, heading back toward the washroom. Tony, knowing better than to argue with her, follows behind while undoing is pants. This, at least, he's familiar with. 

She helps him shave off all his body hair and neaten up his goatee, using a basin of warmed water, then uses the rest of the hot water to fill the bathtub. 

As he slips into the steaming water, he sighs. As overheated as his skin feels, the water is soothing. 

Pepper starts to wash his hair with a spicy-smelling shampoo, digging her fingertips into his scalp and scrubbing. 

"What if he doesn't like me?" Tony asks, his voice quiet. He hadn't meant to say it, but once the words are out there's nothing he can do to suck them back in. 

"Oh, Tony," she says with a sigh. "His subjects are very loyal, did you know? Anybody I've talked to in town has nothing but good things to say about Lord Steven. And surely you've seen how fiercely protective his friends are?" 

"But what if he doesn't _like_ me?" 

"I can't promise he will. But he seems like a good Lord – a good man. I can't think of any reason he wouldn't like you, but Tony… if he doesn't, he'll still be kind to you, I think." 

"I don't know what to do," Tony says. 

Pepper snorts, picking up a pitcher and filling it with bathwater. She uses it to rinse his hair. "You know exactly what to do, Tony. You aced all those classes." 

"But that was different. God, I don't know why I'm so nervous," Tony says. "It's the knotting, I think. Do you think it'll hurt?" 

Pepper pauses. "I don't know. It hurts for some, and not for others. You'll just have to breathe, and relax, and hope." 

It's Tony's turn to snort. "Relax? Oh my god, Pepper, have you even been paying attention?" 

She grins, helping him out of the bath and holding out a big, fluffy towel for him to dry himself. She uses another towel to roughly dry his hair, then heads back out to the main section of the room. Rhodey is sitting in an armchair, reading a book. 

Pepper walks over to the bed and starts to sort through the undergarments. 

Tony's embarrassment has faded, and he goes over to take a look over her shoulder. There are a plethora of choices, all different colours, different fabrics and shapes. 

He could choose that light blue number with the lace, it would bring out the shape of his shoulders. But that little red set shows off his ass better. 

There's the lilac, all soft and flowy. 

He stares at them all. He's about to whine to Pepper about not being able to make a choice, when he sees it. 

It's dark, almost black but with a wine-coloured sheen in the light. It's only one piece, more of a bodysuit than anything. The thighs are cut straight across, so it'll accentuate his muscular thighs, and leave more to the imagination when he turns around and shows his ass. It's a halter neck, and a deep V, and it will leave his back entirely bare, and leave him bare in the front to his navel. 

It's made of lace, and the lace instantly makes him think of his afternoon in the garden with Steve; it has beautiful, delicate flowers embroidered through it. 

He reaches out, takes the lace in two fingers, and rubs it. It's soft, silky, and light. It makes his belly cramp again, but it also gives him a rush of desire. 

"Good choice," Pepper says, beaming at him. 

Rhodey turns away politely when Tony drops the towel, and Pepper helps him into the bodysuit. He pulls on a pair of form-fitting pants, then slides on a dark red shirt. The buttons are tiny, but he does them up deftly, then turns to present himself to Pepper. 

She grins. "He's gonna love it," she says. 

"You mean that?" he asks. For the first time, he's starting to believe it. 

"Absolutely. Now, let's get some liner on your eyes, make him _really_ lose his mind." 


	5. Connection

Steve feels more nervous than he has in his life. 

He doesn't know where it's coming from. It's not like he's never done this before, though it has, admittedly, been a while. But somehow, this feels different. More meaningful. 

It's not just because Tony is his bondmate, though that's part of it. It's not even that they're virtual strangers. 

No, the problem is that he thinks he might actually _like_ Tony. 

He'd been so _animated_ that afternoon in the garden. So excited, and it had suddenly been so obvious how _smart_ he is. His eyes had lit up, and he'd been funny and sweet and interesting. As soon as he'd let his guard down, Steve's stomach had swooped, and he hadn't been able to take his eyes off his Omega. 

And Tony _is_ his Omega. Maybe it's not been the most traditional bonding, but it had happened. Steve does wish he'd had more time to get to know Tony before his heat, but there's a part of him (a rather large part, as a matter of fact) that's glad his heat has come so they don't have to wait anymore. 

Not that he's _impatient_ , he's just… excited. 

Steve checks the mirror again to make sure his hair is still neat. He can't sit still, but that's okay because he doesn't even know what time Tony will be coming to him. 

He's eaten – something quick in the kitchens, much to the staff's consternation – but brought up cheeses and sweets and other foods perfect for nibbling. In case Tony's hungry. In case Tony wants anything. 

He's lit lanterns around the room, and the soft flickering light is warm and romantic. But what if Tony doesn't like it? What if the room is too small? Too hot? Would Tony rather he open the window and let the cool air in? Especially with his heat. 

And Tony's never _had_ a heat before. God, here Steve is, thinking about himself, when Tony's going through his first heat, about to have his first Alpha. 

Steve paces around the room again, moves the wine bottle to a different spot on the table. It shouldn't be so close to the edge, it might fall. 

Should he have asked the kitchen for a different kind of wine? 

"You're ridiculous," Natasha says, leaning back in her chair as she watches him run around the room like an idiot. She'd come to him 20 minutes ago, ostensibly just to watch him make a fool of himself. 

"I'm fine," he says, moving the bottle back. Why would he move it _away_ from the glasses? 

"Why are you here, Natasha?" he asks her again. She hadn't answered him the first time, only told him he'd chosen the wrong shirt and made him go change, then she'd mussed his hair up a little. He'd had to take a minute to smooth it out again. 

"I was bored, I needed something to entertain me," she says, taking a grape from the platter on the table. She pops it into her mouth, chewing slowly. 

"Those aren't for you," he tells her, pulling the platter an inch away from her. She rolls her eyes. 

"It's going to be _fine_ , Steve," she says, giving him a soft smile. 

"I know that," he answers, scowling. "I've done this before, you know." 

"He's going to love it. He's going to love _you_." 

He plops down onto the chair beside her. "He's never done this before." 

She tilts her chin down and gives him a _look_ from under her eyelashes. 

"Okay, yeah, but he's never done _this_ before," he says. "It's a heat. A bonding. A knotting. And, god, Nat, you should have seen him this afternoon. He's so… I've never met anyone like him. He's brilliant, but he has no idea how beautiful he is." 

"Well, growing up in the royal family can be hard," she tells him. "You're in the public eye all the time during your formative years. It has to be even harder when you're an Omega, and when there are no other heirs to the throne." 

They don't talk much about her past, but Steve knows she feels a kinship with Tony. She'd grown up in Krasni, and Steve thinks she'd been slated for the same kind of fate as Tony had been, as an Omega Consort, before she'd defected and moved to Starkland, fighting beside Steve in the war. He doesn't think it had been as coveted a position in Krasni, though. 

As far as Steve knows, she hasn't been off her suppressants or taken an Alpha lover for as long as he's known her. 

"I don't think King Howard was very affectionate to him," Steve confides, pouring himself some wine. He takes a sip, silently offers her the bottle. She shakes her head, munching on another grape. 

"No," she agrees. "Interesting, that the King would send his only son, the prince of the land, to be the Consort of a lowerland lord with no bloodlines, a small parcel of land, and no subjects but fishermen and farmers." 

"You think I'm a punishment for him." Steve's not surprised. He'd come to the same conclusion, himself. It would help explain Tony's reluctance to open up, his inability to relax. His general fear of Steve and this place – if he'd thought his father was sending him here as punishment, of course he would expect pain and mistreatment. 

"I think King Howard doesn't have enough regard for him to bother with anything so invested as 'punishment'," Natasha says. 

"I'm not going to hurt him," Steve says, and it comes out more fiercely than he'd meant it to. "I'm never going to hurt him." 

"Good answer," Natasha says, gracefully climbing to her feet. She takes one more grape, and heads for the door. A moment before she reaches it, there's a sharp rap on the wood. Steve feels his heart jump. 

Natasha opens the door with a sweet smile. 

"You must be the Prince," she says with a small bow of her head. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure." 

She's literally blocking Tony from view, and Steve wants to shove her out the door. He can smell Tony from _here_. The sweet scent of some perfume, light in the air, but underneath it, oh, the spicy, musky odour of Tony's heat-slick. 

"May I present Prince Anthony Stark of Starkland, son of Howard." Ms. Potts' voice carries into the room. "And you are?" 

"Apologies, madam," Nat says, but Steve doesn't think she sounds all that sincere. "Natasha Romanoff. I'm a friend of Lord Steven's, I was just updating him on the news of the day." 

News of the day, his _ass_. She'd come here to tase the hell out of him. 

"Oh, Lord Steven!" she calls back over her shoulder, eyes twinkling merrily because she's awful. "You have a visitor!" 

Steve gets with the program and makes his way to the door. Once he comes around behind Natasha, he can see Tony. 

He's beautiful. The colour of his shirt brings out the flush in his cheeks. His facial hair is impeccably groomed, but his hair is mussed and his eyes are lined with a smudged layer of kohl – it makes the deep golden flecks pop from the warm, rich brown of his irises. His slacks are grey, hugging the curves of his hips and the muscles of his thighs. 

His eyes meet Steve's right away, and he chews on his lower lip. 

Steve wants to bite the same spot. 

"Tony," Steve says, hoping his voice comes out more of a deep rumble than a nervous squeak. "It's good to see you." 

"Thank you," Tony says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip. 

Natasha takes a moment to look back and forth between them before she rolls her eyes, and steps aside to allow Tony entry. He steps through the door and into the room, and it takes all of Steve's willpower not to step forward and pull Tony against his body. 

"Well, _your highness_ ," Natasha says, and Steve can _hear_ the sarcasm in it, "I'll take my leave, then." 

"That'd be great," he says, not taking his eyes off Tony. 

"Ms. Potts," Natasha says, turning away from Tony. "I was on my way down to the kitchens for a snack. Would you care to join me?" 

"I'd love to," Ms. Potts says. "Prince Anthony, will you require anything else this evening?" 

"No," Tony says, his voice cracking a little. He doesn't take his eyes off Steve, either. "No, thank you, Ms. Potts. That will be all." 

Natasha moves out into the hallway with Ms. Potts, then closes the door, leaving Steve alone with Tony. 

For a long, horrifying moment, they just stare awkwardly at one another. Steve can't think of a single thing to say. 

"Hi," Tony finally says, breaking the tension. He looks nervous, and Steve feels a rush of protectiveness for him. He doesn't _want_ Tony to be nervous. He wants Tony to be comfortable, and happy, and safe. 

"Hi," Steve says, smiling. "You look…" he can't find a word that encompasses how beautiful Tony looks, so he trails off. He swallows roughly. "You look good." 

Tony gives him a small smile, but for Steve, he might as well be beaming and cartwheeling across the floor. "Thanks," Tony says. 

"Are you – are you hungry?" Steve says, trying not to scent the air. He wants to get closer, scent Tony's whole body, but that would be rude. "I have wine, if you'd like?" 

"I'd love some wine," Tony says, and he sounds relieved. 

Steve leads him over the the table, with its spread of fruits and cheeses and pastries, and pours them both some wine. 

Tony looks at his glass for a moment, before glancing back up to Steve. "Should we toast to something?" 

Steve thinks about it for a long moment, then lets a small smile creep onto his face. "To messages," he says, tipping his glass up. Tony smiles, a small blush gracing his cheekbones, and clinks his glass with Steve's. They both take a long, fortifying drink. 

+++++ 

Steve takes another sip of his wine. He should say something, but he can't think of _what_. He wants to ask Tony questions – about his life, his interests – but whenever he questions Tony about those things, Tony clams up and gets nervous, afraid to open up. The last thing Steve wants to do right now is make Tony _more_ nervous. 

Tony drains his glass of wine, and sets it on the table. He takes a deep breath and meets Steve's eyes. 

"So," he says, after a moment. "I'm in heat." 

Steve blushes. He knows that. He's known it since that afternoon. He can see it in the dampness on Tony's upper lip, the brightness of his eyes. He can smell Tony's pheromones, the slightly spicy, sweet scent of slick and heat. But somehow, having Tony say it so bluntly, so openly, makes him shy. 

He nods. "Yes," he says, stupidly. 

"And our bonding contract states that, during my first heat bonded to you, we have to consummate our bond." 

"It does say that," Steve says, still stupidly. 

"Right," Tony says. After a moment, he reaches for the top of his shirt, and starts fumbling with the button. His hands are trembling, a little. "So, we're going to do that." 

Steve steps forward, reaches for Tony's hands. Tony startles, but he doesn't shy away, so Steve takes both hands in his own, squeezing them lightly. 

"You're shaking," Steve says. "Are you okay?" 

"Of course!" Tony says, voice too bright. "Of course I'm okay! I'm an Omega, I was _made_ for this, to do this, to take–" 

"Tony, it's okay," Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Tony's hands. "We don't have to rush, okay? We can take our time." 

"There's no point dragging it out," Tony says. "I'm ready." 

"Maybe I'm not," Steve tells him. Tony blinks at him, eyes wide. 

Steve glances back at the sofa over by the fireplace, and lets one of Tony's hands drop to his side. He holds onto the other, though, lacing their fingers together and tugging Tony toward the sitting area. "Come sit down," he says. 

Tony does as he's bid, sitting stiffly on the sofa beside Steve. Steve turns his body part way so they're almost facing each other. 

"Why are you afraid of me?" Steve asks him. 

Tony's head jerks back slightly. "I'm not afraid of you." 

"You _seem_ afraid of me," Steve says, but he smiles a little to take away some of the sting. "It's okay, Tony, I'm not mad. I just want to find out why you're scared, so I can try to help." 

Tony shakes his head. "I'm _not_ afraid." Steve opens his mouth, but Tony barrels on, not letting him interrupt. "I'm really not, I swear. I'm just – it's the _knot_." This last comes out in almost a whisper. "I'm just… worried. That it'll hurt." 

Steve studies him for a moment, then decides to throw caution to the wind and lean back on the sofa, pulling Tony with him. It takes a moment to arrange themselves so that Tony is against his chest, but eventually Steve is able to settle them comfortably and wrap one arm around Tony's shoulders. 

"It can hurt, sometimes," he finally says. Tony's body tenses a little. "But I don't want to hurt you," Steve adds. He sighs. "It's not supposed to. Hurt, I mean. If an Alpha is careful, if he makes sure to be gentle, it doesn't have to _hurt_. It can be intense, maybe, but not painful, if I can help it." 

"Oh," Tony says, and Steve can hear the underlying, unspoken questions. 

"I can only imagine they told you it could hurt to prepare you in case you were bonded with an Alpha who wasn't gentle," Steve says, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He hates that he has to have this conversation, that Tony doesn't already _know_ this, that he's been raised to think his pleasure, his comfort, is secondary and unimportant. But he needs to set Tony's mind at ease. "I don't know why they'd want to bond an Omega to that kind of Alpha in the first place, but that's probably why they told you it could hurt. But, Tony, I promise you, I don't want to hurt you." 

"What _do_ you want?" Tony asks, his voice impossibly quiet. Timid. 

"I want you to have a good time," Steve says, lifting his free hand to stroke Tony's cheek. "I want you to feel good. I want you to feel good because of me, because of what I do for you. Do you understand?" 

Tony lets out a shaky chuckle. "Not really, but I'll go along with it." 

Steve smiles, and takes a deep breath. He lets Tony's scent wash over him, the heat of his body against his warming him from the inside. He puts a tiny bit of pressure on Tony's jaw, nudging his face to turn, and Tony does, tilting his face and turning his torso and pressing his lips against Steve's. 

It's their first kiss. Tony's lips are soft, plush, and silky. It's a slow kiss, and Steve tries to keep it gentle, though he can't help the tiny little groan that escapes him when Tony's tongue licks into his mouth. In one fluid motion, Tony manages to raise himself up, turn and straddle Steve's hips, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. 

Steve wraps his hands around Tony's waist in return, spreading his fingers wide so he can touch as much of Tony as possible. Steve can feel the heat of his skin through his clothing. 

Tony sinks further onto him, trying to pick up speed with the kiss. Steve slides one hand up Tony's spine, up to the back of his neck, and grips him there to hold him still. Tony's body instantly freezes, then relaxes into the dominating touch, and he lets out a sigh of pleasure as Steve takes control of the kiss, keeping it slow and deep. 

He's fascinated by the feel and taste of Tony's mouth. Tony feels hotter than anyone he's ever kissed before, and Steve doesn't know how much of that is the fact he's in heat, and how much of it is just because he's _Tony_. Steve drives his tongue into Tony's mouth, hunting his taste and heat and slickness. Tony sighs, rocking forward on Steve's lap. 

It's enough to remind Steve that, over the few minutes they've been kissing, he's gotten rock hard with arousal. The smell of Tony's own arousal is thick in the air, and Steve wants to drown in that scent forever. 

He breaks his mouth away, kissing hotly up the line of Tony's jaw. He threads his fingers through Tony's hair and pulls, exposing his long, graceful neck so Steve can press hot, sucking kisses on the tender flesh. 

"Oh, _Alpha_ ," Tony moans, squirming. His whole body trembles. 

"I want to see you," Steve growls, nipping at thin skin under Tony's jaw. Tony shivers again, and it makes Steve even harder. 

He slides the hand still on Tony's waist up his chest, tweaking a nipple through the fabric of his shirt on his way up to Tony's throat. He slips two fingers into the neckline of the shirt, thumbing the top button idly as he keeps a firm grip on Tony's hair, holding him immobile. 

"Do you like this shirt?" Steve asks against Tony's throat. Tony swallows, rolling his hips against Steve's. Steve can feel Tony's erection grind down against his. 

"It's been a fine shirt," Tony gasps. "Served me well. Had it for years." 

"Then I suggest you get off my lap, stand up and take it off yourself, because I'm going to tear it off you in a second," Steve rumbles, burying his nose in Tony's jaw and nipping at the skin again. 

Tony whines, and Steve feels a hot rush of slick dampening Tony's pants, even through his own. A moment later, the smell hits him, and Steve growls, fist tightening in Tony's hair and smashing their mouths together for another rough kiss. 

He knows half his urgency is a direct response to the scent of Tony's heat. Their bonding may have been arranged, but his body already recognizes Tony as _his_ , and his heat is setting off an Alpha rut. He's filled with a deep sense of need, like a violent storm raging in him telling him to take, to claim. 

Tony tears his mouth away, and Steve has enough decency to let him go, to drop his hands and let Tony stand up off the sofa. Tony stands before him, cheeks flushed, hair wild, and lips red and swollen from Steve's rough treatment of them. 

His cock is hard enough to bulge at his crotch, and he's breathing hard, chest heaving. Shaky fingers jerk up to the button at the top of his shirt, and he starts unbuttoning it. He's shaking from urgency, now, rather than nerves, and Steve is enraptured, unable to look away as Tony slowly bares his skin. 

Steve watches as, inch by inch, the tanned V of Tony's chest is put on display for him. When he gets to the bottom, he shrugs the shirt off, and Steve's cock jerks in his pants, throat going dry. 

He'd been expecting bare skin. What he hadn't been expecting was black-red lace, shining in the lantern light of the room, a deep V of it disappearing into the waistband of Tony's pants. Delicate embroidered flowers swirl around the peaks of Tony's nipples. The dark scalloped lace plunges down to bare him as far as just under his navel. His shoulders look strong and square, framed by the halter-neck, and Steve reaches out a tentative hand to touch the silky material. 

"You're gorgeous," he breathes, palm sliding over the lace over Tony's ribs. Tony's whole body shivers, his eyelashes flutter and he swallows. 

"Do you like it?" he asks, and it comes out soft, like a murmur. 

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Steve admits in a whisper, and he feels his cheeks flush because that had been entirely too honest. He sits up straight, putting his hands on Tony's hips and pulling him to stand closer to the sofa so that Steve can rest his forehead against the bare skin of his belly. He inhales deeply, savouring the scent of Tony's skin and the waves of heat and arousal, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above Tony's navel. "Tell me what you want," Steve says. 

"I want to give you whatever you desire," Tony says, and Steve can hear it – it's _rehearsed_. It's what he's been taught to say, what he's been trained, and that's not what Steve wants. It's probably a defense mechanism – if Tony is feeling unsure, he'll fall back on those habits, that training, but Steve doesn't want Tony's training. He wants _Tony_. 

And he wants this gorgeous Omega to want him back just as much. He wants Tony mewling and crying under him, begging for Steve's knot, desperate and wild and ruined for everyone else. 

The possessiveness slams into his chest, and he growls, biting into the soft, tender skin of Tony's lower belly, teeth digging into lace, before soothing it with his tongue. 

"I don't want you to tell me what I want to hear," Steve says, sliding his hands around to Tony's back, and then, finally, to his gorgeous, full ass. He squeezes it in his hands, basks in the scent of slick arousal. "I want you to tell me what _you_ want." 

"I want you," Tony gasps. He's trying to push into Steve's hands, but at the same time trying to press his belly forward into contact with Steve's lips again. He can't stand still. 

Steve dips his tongue into Tony's navel, swirls his tongue inside. Tony moans. 

"Not what I want to hear," Steve reminds him. 

"I don't – I don't know what else you want me to _say_ ," Tony says. 

"Exactly," Steve growls, surging to his feet and capturing Tony's mouth again. He keeps his hands on Tony's sweet rear, pulling them together so their groins grind together. Tony is just as hard as Steve is, and suddenly Steve wants all the fabric out of the way. He lifts Tony up by the hips, and Tony's legs automatically wind around Steve's waist. He's light enough, and Steve is strong enough, that Steve can carry him that way, so he does, moving across the room toward the bed. It's huge, dressed in soft grey fabrics. Steve keeps kissing him as they walk, letting Tony writhe in his arms, rolling his hips and grinding his cock against Steve, until they reach the bed. 

Steve puts him down on it gently, using his body to push Tony onto his back. He takes hold of Tony's hands, pushes them up over his head and down onto the mattress. When Steve releases them, Tony keeps them there obediently, so Steve gives him one more kiss before pulling back, lifting himself up, and moving to stand at the edge of the bed between Tony's spread knees. His hands slowly go to Tony's waistband, telegraphing his intention. 

"May I?" he asks, voice husky. Tony nods, eyes wide. He licks at his swollen lips, and Steve keeps his eyes on Tony's face when he undoes the buttons and ties at his waist. 

When the pants are loose, Steve dives his fingers inside the waistband and begins to pull, and that's when he looks down to see what he's revealing. 

The lace he'd already seen of Tony's undergarments is attached to the bottom, so it's all one gorgeous piece. Tony's cock is hard, bulging out of the lace obscenely, and it's longer than Steve would have guessed. It's tucked up against his hip, held there by the fabric, which stops at the top of Tony's thighs. As Steve pulls the pants down further and further, he finally gets to see some of that tantalizing bare skin, the muscular thighs and calves and even his shapely ankles. Tony's warm, golden skin looks beautiful in the lamplight. He's shaved all over, and Steve wants to touch the silkiness of it, the smooth, flawless skin. Tony hasn't scented himself, there's no cologne or perfume to mask his beautiful heat scent, and Steve feels another rush of arousal as his nose twitches, breathing Tony's heat musk in. 

He finishes taking Tony's pants off, then takes hold of Tony's ankles and slides his hands up that gorgeous smooth skin, up his legs to his thighs, to his hips and the lace again. Tony is watching him, breath coming fast. 

"You're stunning," Steve tells him. "And you're _mine_." 

"Yes," Tony says, swallowing. "Yes, I'm yours." 

"Show me," Steve says, pulling away and standing over the bed again. He takes a step back to give Tony more space, manages to pull his hands away from that skin. "Show me what's mine." 

Tony stares at him for a long moment, then slowly twists, rolling onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and presenting himself. 

The lace over his ass is dark and damp with slick, the fabric stretched over plump, round globes. The lingerie is backless, giving Steve more beautiful skin to stare at. Tony's thighs are twitching, muscles in his back bunching and rolling as he moves into position. 

Steve stares at him for a long moment. He's suddenly gripped by the intense need to taste Tony, to taste the ambrosia of his slick, to see if it's as good as it smells. He moves forward slowly, placing his hand on Tony's back and sliding it down to the round firmness of his ass. Tony shivers. 

"I won't hurt you," Steve reminds him. "I won't do anything until you're ready for me." 

Tony makes a noise that sounds like a strangled laugh, but he clamps down on it right away, like he hasn't meant to let it out. "I'm in heat, and I'm slick," Tony gasps. "How much more ready can I get?" 

A slow, wicked smile spreads across Steve's lips. "I'll show you," he says. He pushes Tony's hips down to the bed, none too gently, and manhandles him so one knee is pushed up and out, spreading his thighs wide apart. Tony flops down onto his belly, unable to hold himself up against Steve's pressure, and Steve buries his face, finally, in the lace between Tony's cheeks. 

The first taste of Tony's slick on the lace of his bodysuit is ambrosia. The musky scent of it and sweet taste on his tongue pull a groan out of him – a groan completely drowned out by the startled yelp from Tony when Steve licks hard at the lace covering his opening. 

The lace forces Steve to lick and suck with more pressure than he ordinarily would, but the texture of the lace over smooth, silky skin is intriguing and sexy. 

"Oh, god, Steve," Tony moans, shifting against the mattress. He looks like he's trying to get away and get closer at the same time. "What are you – oh, god." 

"I told you," Steve says, lips brushing against Tony's skin and the lace as he talks, "I wanted to make you feel good. Does this feel good?" 

"Oh – oh, god," Tony pants. "Yes, Steve, yes, it feels good." 

"That's good," Steve says, pressing back in. He licks and sucks, using his hands to push Tony's legs apart, spread his cheeks. After a few moments, he slides his fingers in under the lace and pulls it to the side, stretching it over and up to expose Tony's slick, soft hole. 

The pink skin is fresh and clean, furled and wet with moisture from Tony's own body and from Steve's saliva. The muscle pulses as Tony's inner walls clench and release, arousal and heat and hormones readying him to receive Steve's knot. 

Steve leans in and swipes his tongue across the bare entrance, over the slickness and tight muscle. Tony lets out another ragged moan, and Steve sighs because now he can really taste Tony, with nothing in the way. 

He licks and sucks and kisses at Tony's hole, swirling his tongue over and around his tight, sweet pucker without trying to enter. As he works, the ring of muscle starts to open, to soften. Tony may never have taken an Alpha's knot before, but his body knows what to do, and it prepares itself by opening to allow Steve's cock inside. 

Another rush of slick comes out when the muscle winks open, and Steve laps it up, licking his way eagerly into Tony's hole now. His tongue dips inside, and he starts to work Tony more open with it, thrusting and licking and sucking at the rim. 

Tony's moans are near constant, and he's shifting and rocking on the bed, seeking more, seeking friction or penetration or anything he can get. 

Suddenly, Steve wonders if he can make Tony come like this, if Tony could get enough out of it, and resolves to give it his best shot. He doubles his efforts, mouthing and licking and thrusting his tongue inside in a crude approximation of fucking. Tony cries out, and Steve pushes the tip of one finger in beside his tongue, pushing and pushing, deeper and deeper until it's buried to the base. He slides it in and out a few times, searching and caressing and licking. 

Tony claws at the bedding, breath coming in huge sobs now. 

"Hold your panties out of the way for me," Steve instructs, voice almost hoarse, before pushing back in, this time with two fingers and his tongue, and Tony obeys immediately, reaching back to pull the lace fabric off to the side so that Steve has both hands free, and he slides his other hand in under Tony's body, cupping his cock in the lace. His cock is a nice size, bigger than his frame would suggest, but Steve has big hands, too, so he can mostly cover the bulge of it. Tony cries out, thrusts his hips forward mindlessly, fucking into Steve's hand. 

Steve uses his fingers and his tongue to work Tony open, licking and thrusting and sliding in and out. He pushes in, deeply, with his fingers, rubs the pads of his fingers over Tony's prostate, and Tony howls, his whole body bowing on the bed. Steve can feel his balls and cock pulsing, feel the hot dampness of Tony's come hit the inside of the lace where he's still covered. Tony writhes, his hole clenching around Steve's fingers, and the sudden rush of slick coats Steve's lips and chin. He licks it up messily, revelling in the taste of Tony's obvious pleasure. 

Steve softens his tongue as Tony's body begins to come down from orgasm, gently sliding his fingers out and licking up the rest of Tony's slick, pressing a gentle kiss to the cheek of his ass before carefully prying Tony's fingers off the lace and letting it cover his hole. 

He pulls at Tony's hip, pushes his leg over, and rolls Tony over onto his back with very little assistance from the Omega himself. 

Tony's lips are slack, his eyes half-lidded. His cheeks are flushed, and he's still breathing hard, looking stunned. 

"That's it, sweetheart," Steve murmurs, looking over him. "You're beautiful." 

Tony squirms, limbs loose and uncoordinated. Steve is, quite suddenly, reminded of how hard and insistent his own cock is. Tony is gorgeous like this, messy with his own come and sweat and slick. 

"That was…" Tony starts, then doesn't finish it. Steve doesn't need him to, though, so he just grins and crawls over Tony's body to kiss him. 

Tony's return kiss is beyond enthusiastic, his lips and tongue desperate and hot – either uncaring about the taste of his own slick on Steve's lips, or excited by it. He surges up, pushing Steve back on the bed, rolling over to straddle him. Tony's fingers work frantically at Steve's clothes, pulling his shirt up over his head, then working at his pants. He pulls them down and off in a hurry, moving with them, then looks up at Steve's body. Steve doesn't shy away, unbothered by his nakedness. His cock is standing tall and proud, slick at the tip with pre-come. 

Tony looks him up and down, eyes catching on his dick. "Oh," he says, softly. He swallows roughly. 

"Is everything okay?" Steve asks, quirking one eyebrow. 

"I was… I mean… has it… always been that size?" 

Steve snorts, then slaps his hand over his mouth to stifle the laugh. "Pretty much," he says, grinning with a shrug. "Is that… okay?" 

He knows he's a little larger than average, but it's not like it's inhuman. 

"Oh," Tony says again. 

"What?" 

"Well, I mean, there were rumours. About the elixir you'd taken, and what it had done to your… well, your cock. And your knot." 

Steve rolls his eyes. "The elixir didn't do anything to my dick, Tony." 

"Well, I don't know!" Tony says, arms waving out to the sides wildly. "How am I supposed to know?" 

"You could have asked." 

"Oh, sure, that wouldn't have been at all awkward. 'Nice to meet you, my liege, please, tell me, are you a grower or a shower?'" 

Steve laughs, and Tony grins down at him, and that's the sight Steve had been missing all evening – Tony's eyes sparkling, lines crinkling at the corners with the smile. 

"Okay, that's fair," Steve says. "I know it's kind of… but I told you, Tony, I don't want to hurt you. I'll do everything I can to make sure I don't." 

Tony swallows, glancing down at Steve's cock, then back up to his face, as though searching for a lie. 

Steve keeps his face open and honest, so Tony nods. "I trust you," he says, and Steve's heart thumps in his throat. That, he knows, is all he can ask for. 

"But I'm gonna have to get used to it, first," Tony says, and with a wink he crawls onto his knees between Steve's feet, wraps his beautiful, graceful hand around Steve's erection, and leans forward to let the head of it slip between his plush, slick, pink lips. 

The heat of him is glorious, hot and wet with just enough suction. 

Tony starts slowly, swirling his tongue and bobbing his head, and Steve can honestly say, with complete and utter sincerity, that he's never had a blowjob like this. Tony's mouth is hot and wet, his tongue talented. He starts to bob faster, tilting his back and angling his head to open his throat, and suddenly he's sucking Steve all the way down to the base. Tony's throat opens and the tight, hot grip of it around Steve is heaven. Tony's throat clenches around him, then he pulls off with a little cough. He grins, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as Steve stares at him, slack jawed. 

"Oh, yeah," Tony says, a little strangled. "This is gonna be fine." Then he slides his mouth back down, sucking Steve all the way into him. He swallows and licks and bobs, taking Steve deep in his throat, over and over. 

Steve can barely hold himself still. He moans, fingers clenched into the bedding, watching Tony devour his cock. It's gorgeous, and he wants to burn it into his mind to relive it over and over. Tony's pink lips stretch around Steve's girth, and he wonders what Tony's lips would look like stretched around his knot. 

God, no, he'll come too soon. But he can't tear his eyes away. 

Tony reaches for one of Steve's hands, takes it and places it on the back of his head, bobbing earnestly. 

Steve knows what that means. It's an invitation, Tony's way of letting Steve know he can fuck up into Tony's mouth. But no, that's not what he wants. He's too close to coming, and he wants his first orgasm with Tony to be in the hot, slick heat of him where he can knot, feel Tony clenching around him as he comes on the thick bulk of it. 

So instead of pushing Tony's head down harder into his lap, Steve takes gentle hold of his hair and pulls him up, off his cock. 

Tony whines, tries to pull back down, but Steve shushes him, hauling him up so Steve can kiss him. 

"It feels so good, honey," Steve whispers against his lips. "You feel so good. I need you, sweetheart. Tony, I need to feel you." 

Tony pulls back slightly, searches Steve's eyes. Maybe he's trying to reassure himself that Steve really doesn't want him to finish the blowjob. Maybe it's reassurance that Steve won't hurt him. Either way, he seems to find what he's looking for, and he pulls back, hands going up over his head and behind his neck to unclasp the halter of his bodysuit. 

Steve reaches forward and helps him peel it down his body, helps him work it down his hips, his legs, and all the way off. Steve's eyes roam hungrily over Tony's nudity, gazing at every inch of bare skin. Tony's pretty cock is half-hard again, his ass freshly slick. Steve lays them down, covering Tony's body with his and settling between his legs. He lines their cocks up together, rocking his hips slightly. Not enough to get either of them off, just enough to tantalize. He kisses Tony, slow and deep, then trails kisses all over his cheeks and jaw. 

"It'll be easier from behind," Steve whispers into his ear. "If I mount you. But if you want, I can still take you like this without hurting you." 

"I want to see you," Tony admits, fingers clenching into the thick meat of Steve's shoulders. 

"I want to see you, too," Steve says, kissing him again. "I want to watch you fall apart for me. I didn't get to see your face when you came before, I want to watch you now." 

Tony shivers, and Steve feels his cock swell between them. 

Steve kisses him again, deepening it as he reaches down and slides two fingers inside Tony's hole. 

Tony cries out into his mouth, but he doesn't clench up or shy away, so Steve allows himself a few moments to push his fingers in and out. Tony's hole is tight, but open enough to take him if he moves slowly. 

Steve pulls his fingers out and takes hold of the base of his own cock, shifting down so he can angle himself. He lets the tip of his cock slide across Tony's hot, slick entrance, but he doesn't push in yet. Just gives Tony time to get used to the idea, to relax. 

"Please," Tony whines, clenching his eyes shut. 

"Look at me, Tony," Steve whispers, freezing. Tony's eyes snap open, and he stares up into Steve's eyes. He doesn't look afraid, so Steve pushes forward, slowly but steadily, until he meets the slight resistance of Tony's hymen. He's halfway in, but it's not enough, he needs more, _needs_ Tony's body to accept him all. 

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Steve asks him, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin behind Tony's balls. He pushes down a little, stimulating Tony's prostate from the outside, and Tony moans. 

"I'm ready," he says, and so Steve pushes forward, feeling the release, feeling Tony's body open and accept him and take him all the way in. 

Tony cries out, but so does Steve. He sinks in to the hilt, keeping his eyes on Tony's face for any signs of discomfort. Tony blinks up at him. 

"Are you okay, honey?" Steve asks him. 

"I – I feel full," Tony admits. "I – I like it." 

Steve gives him a small, knowing grin. "Good. Because so do I. You feel so hot and tight, honey, I can't believe how good you feel." 

Tony whimpers, clenches down experimentally, then tilts his hips up. "Please, Steve, fuck me," he says. "Fuck me and knot me." 

And who is Steve to deny his Omega such a heartfelt request? 

He moves slowly at first, pulling most of the way out before pushing back into that tight, slick channel. Tony moans, grinding the back of his head into the mattress as he shifts his hips. 

Steve grabs a pillow from beside Tony's head and shoves it under his hips, and it's enough to angle him properly so that when Steve slides in, his cock puts pressure on Tony's prostate. 

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Tony cries, hands grabbing desperately at Steve's biceps. "Steve!" 

"That's it, honey," Steve murmurs, picking up the pace. He can already feel the base of his cock swelling, his knot forming and preparing to lock them together. He wants to see Tony come before that happens, so he reaches between them and wraps his hand around Tony's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts as he picks up the pace, fucks into Tony's body harder and faster. 

Tony cries out, keening as Steve fucks him, and Steve can watch his body ratchet higher and higher, tensing as he gets closer and closer to coming. 

Tony's eyes pop open wide as he falls over the edge, his cock pulsing and his ass clenching as he comes. It spurts between them, splashing up over Tony's chest, over his nipples, and it's gorgeous. He looks sinful, wild and fucked out, and Steve follows him. He feels his knot grow, feels himself swell and pulse, and then his vision whites out and he's coming, pouring himself into Tony's body, coating his insides with his spend. 

His knot thickens, and Steve can't help it, he grinds himself in deeper, tries to get as deep into Tony as he can as his knot locks them together, stretching the rim of Tony's entrance. 

"Oh, god, oh, god," Tony is moaning, and Steve pets his hair soothingly, kissing him. 

"I know honey, I know it's a lot but you're doing so good, that's it," he croons, and Tony sobs out a breath of air, and his cock spurts a trickle of come between them. 

Steve knows his knot is big, but he also knows Tony can take it, that for Omegas a knotting can be very intense, but also very pleasurable. Tony is breathing hard, swinging his head from side to side, panting. Steve kisses him, his body shivering because Tony is so hot inside, hot and tight and slick around him. 

He rocks forward a little, pushing his knot against Tony's prostate, and Tony screams, cock pulsing between them again. 

"Good?" Steve asks him, a rumble in his ear. 

"Fuck, yes, please," Tony whines, and Steve takes his cue, starts rocking forward over and over, pushing his knot into Tony's prostate. He watches, fascinated, as Tony spirals higher and higher, wilder and wilder, and then his whole body goes tight as a bow string and he comes again. 

It's different this time – it's the kind of orgasm only an Omega can have on a knot, and Tony writhes, shakes, shudders with pleasure that seems to go on forever. His eyes are rolled back in his head, his limbs jerking, his body clenching hard and fast as he comes and comes. 

It's enough to make Steve's cock throb inside him, more come spurting in, and Steve's balls pulse as he empties himself again. Tony cries and cries until the aftershocks start to settle, and he lies bonelessly under Steve. His body shivers from time to time, but he's barely conscious. 

Steve settles on his elbows and leans down to kiss him, gently, on his closed eyelids, and wait for his knot to subside enough that he can pull out. 

+++++ 

The rush of slick and come that slips out of Tony's soft, open hole when Steve finally pulls out of him is almost as hot as the tiny little moaning sound the Omega makes at the loss. Steve pets him, soothes him, and kisses him as he rearranges them on the bed to get under the covers, pulling Tony tightly to his chest. 

He should ask, he supposes, if Tony would like anything. A bath. Food. More wine. But right now Steve just wants to hold him for a while, so he decides that can wait. 

"How are you?" Steve asks him, once they're settled again. 

"I'm… I'm good," Tony says, and it's an honest answer. Steve lets his thumb slide back and forth on Tony's skin where his arm is wrapped around his waist. 

"Yeah? Did I hurt you, sweetheart?" 

"No. Well, I mean, it was intense," Tony says. "But it didn't hurt." 

"You were beautiful," Steve tells him, pressing a kiss to the top of Tony's head. "More beautiful than I imagined." 

"You thought about this?" 

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Of course I thought about this." 

"Oh." 

Steve crooks a finger under Tony's chin and tilts his face up to meet Steve's eyes. "Tony, I've thought about you like this since the first time I saw you. How could I not?" 

Tony shrugs, glancing down at Steve's lips as though he can't bear to hold his gaze. "But you're obligated to–" 

"The intensity with which I have wanted to fuck you has nothing to do with obligation, and everything to do with how deliciously gorgeous you are," Steve growls. He softens his tone, but squeezes Tony a little more tightly to himself. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to, and if this is the last time you want to have me, we can get you started back on your suppressants and it'll never happen again. But if you want me to? If you'll let me? Tony, I would…" he trails off, shaking his head a little. It's too soon for declarations of anything, and Steve's not even entirely sure what his own feelings are yet, anyway. He just knows that he wants to see Tony come on his knot again and again, wants to see the way he loses control, his whole body seizing with overwhelming pleasure. "I would," Steve repeats lamely. 

Tony doesn't say anything, but he rests his head back down on Steve's shoulder and snuggles closer. 

"Are you hungry?" Steve asks after a moment. 

"Not right now," Tony says. "Maybe in a little while." 

"Would you like a bath?" 

"By the time you get the tub filled I'll–" Tony cuts himself off, his whole body freezing. 

"Tony?" 

"Nothing. I'm sorry, that was… I'm sorry." 

"What are you apologizing for?" 

Tony sits up, pulling away from Steve – which is wrong and horrible – and lets the sheets pool around his middle. He stares at the blankets, folding his hands together tightly, and refuses to make eye contact. "That was rude of me, my lord. I'm sorry." 

Steve's brows furrow. " _What_ was rude of you?" 

"I shouldn't have insulted your kingdom." 

Steve blinks, searching Tony's face for a smile or a twitch to indicate that he's joking, but Tony looks serious. Serious and terrified. 

Natasha had said to treat him with care, Steve remembers. Right. He can do that. 

"Tony, I'm not going to punish you," Steve says, testing a theory. 

"It's okay, my lord, I deserve–" 

"I am _not_ going to punish you," Steve tells him, putting some of that royal command in his voice. He doesn't bring it out very often, but he's done arguing about this, and they've barely even started. "I am _never_ going to punish you." 

Tony swallows, cheeks flushed red. 

Steve gentles his tone, sitting all the way up and placing a gentle hand over Tony's, locked together. He squeezes a little, then brings his other hand forward to pull Tony's hands apart. He brings one up to his mouth so he can press a light kiss to Tony's palm. 

"I understand things were done a different way in Starkland, and when you were at the academy," Steve tells him. "But that's not the way it is here. I don't even know how you think you might have offended me, but I can assure you that even if I _were_ offended, I would not _punish_ you for it. Even if I were very, very angry with you, I would not punish you. Tony, you're… you're not _property_." 

"I'm your Omega Consort," Tony says, still staring down at the bedclothes. "By definition, that's exactly what I am." 

Steve lets out a light, frustrated sound. Tony flinches, so Steve takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at… the world, I guess. I hate this. I hate that I have to sit here in our bonding bed and explain to you that it's okay for you to have thoughts and opinions whether I share them or not, and that if you express those thoughts and opinions I won't punish you in some way. I hate it." 

"I'm sorry," Tony murmurs. 

"It's not your _fault_ , Tony," Steve says, cupping Tony's face with one hand. "Sweetheart, you're an Omega, and you're beautiful and strong and brilliant, too. Being an Omega doesn't make you _less than_ , it's just part of who you are. It's the rest of you I'm interested in learning about." 

Tony doesn't say anything, but the hunch of his shoulders seems to relax a little. 

"Stay here," Steve tells him with another gentle squeeze to his hand. Steve slides out of the bed and moves over to the table with its spread of food. He fills a plate with a selection of items and pours them each a glass of wine. He rests the plate on his forearm and takes a glass in each hand, bringing them back over to the bedside table. He puts the glasses down first, then the plate, and crawls back into bed. 

Tony's blush has settled down, and he's lifted his eyes to watch Steve, though he still looks a little timid. Steve hands him a glass of the wine, and moves the plate onto the bed between them. 

"I know you said you weren't hungry," Steve says. "But I wanted a snack. Help yourself." 

Steve takes a grape and puts it in his mouth, follows it quickly with a little cube of cheese. After the fifth bite, Tony finally reaches forward and takes a blueberry and brings it to his lips. 

Steve watches him for a moment, taking a sip of his wine. 

"So what's wrong with my bathtubs?" he finally asks. 

"Nothing!" Tony says, sounding defensive. "I shouldn't have said anything." 

"What are bathtubs like in Starkland?" Steve tries. 

"Oh, about the same," Tony says, but this time Steve can see he's not being entirely truthful. 

"Tony," Steve says, and leaves it at that. He does reach out and place a hand on Tony's knee in a gesture meant to be comforting. 

Tony sighs, and takes a long, slow sip of his wine. "I really didn't mean to offend you, or insult your kingdom," he starts, straightening his shoulders as though preparing himself to walk to the gallows. "America is lovely, and you should be proud of it." 

"Thank you," Steve says, offering Tony a small smile. "But what about the baths?" 

"It's not… the baths, exactly," Tony says, cringing. "It's more of a water issue." 

"A water issue." 

"A running water issue." 

"I don't think I understand," Steve says. 

Tony sighs again. "In Starkland, they've built aqueducts. It's an amenity I've grown quite fond of, and it hadn't occurred to me that other parts of the kingdom might not have the same thing." 

"Aqueducts?" Steve purposefully keeps any judgement out of his voice. Honestly, it's not difficult – he really is curious as to what an aqueduct is. 

"They've built pipes and basins, to bring water from the river into the populated parts of the kingdom. Cities, towns. They have valve systems so you never have to carry water – the aqueducts do it for you!" As Tony speaks, he seems to warm up to the topic, and the anxious tightness in his muscles relaxes. He starts to move his hands in the air in front of him, gesturing as he talks. 

"So if you want to fill a pot, or a bathtub, or anything, you just go to the spout and turn it on – when the valve is open, water pours out. When you close it, the water stops." 

"Wow," Steve says, blinking. "That sounds amazing. And they have it everywhere?" 

"Pretty much," Tony says. "I wanted to see how it all worked, so I opened up the wall behind my bathroom at the palace, and it's all stone and iron, and I started thinking, you know, what if I could make it even more efficient? So I got rid of the walls so the pipes and channels were exposed, and I built a small coal oven under one of the basins. I insulated it so it would keep warm, you'd only have to start the stove in the morning and in no time you'd have hot water – at your fingertips! All day!" 

"Wait, you did what?" Steve asks, blinking. 

"Father was _livid_ about the walls," Tony grins, as though he hasn't heard Steve's question, or as if he's misunderstood it. "But he had the palace engineers in to look it over, and not a week later they were doing the same in his chambers." 

"Go back to the part where you built a coal oven," Steve tells him, lips twitching. "You _built_ an _oven_?" 

"Well, sure, it's not _hard_ ," Tony tells him. 

Steve sits back against the pillows, leaning over to set his wine on the bedside table. "Tony, how do you know how to build an oven? And how to make it work like that, so you can heat the water, and keep it warm?" 

Tony shrugs one shoulder, taking a bite of chocolate from the plate and biting into it. "It just made sense to me." 

Steve tilts his head, studying Tony carefully. "Have you always been able to do that? Figure out how stuff works, or how it should work, and make it happen?" 

"Sure," Tony says. "I always wanted to be an engineer, or an inventor, but I'm an Omega." He shrugs, as though that's the end of the topic. 

Steve supposes it is. At least, it would be, if he were still in Starkland. 

"You live in America now," Steve tells him. "I may not be able to change the laws across the countryside, but I can do this. From now on, whenever you want to build something, or invent something, you can do it. I don't care if you're an Omega." 

Tony blinks at him, brows furrowing. "I don't…" 

"And that aqueduct thing – do you know how they did it? In Starkland?" 

"Sure," Tony shrugs. "Built the pipes and the drainage systems, use gravity to make the water flow where you want it." 

"And if I could give you a team of strong men. Men and tools and whatever else you needed. Could you do that here?" 

Tony stares at him, stunned. "No, I–" 

"I told you, it doesn't matter that you're an Omega. No one here knows how to build aqueducts, or how to keep water basins heated all day. No one but you. Being an Omega won't stop you, here. If you have the manpower and the tools, would you be able to build it?" 

A slow smile stretches across Tony's face, and it's filled with hope. It looks beautiful on his face. 

"Yes," he says. "Yeah, I definitely could." 

Steve grins back, then leans forward and kisses him, tasting the wine and chocolate on his lips. 

+++++ 

Tony deepens the kiss, letting out a quiet whine as he shifts and climbs over Steve to straddle his lap. 

Steve leans against the headboard, resting his hands on Tony's hips. He licks at Tony's lips until they open for him, and then performs a thorough exploration of his mouth. 

He can feel Tony's cock growing hard against Steve's belly, and he can feel Tony's ass getting slick with desire as he moves over Steve's lap. Tony seems particularly amourous, and Steve hopes it's more than just a show of gratitude for inviting Tony to do some proper engineering in the kingdom. 

But how could he not? The idea, even the _concept_ of hot water pouring out of a tap in his own bathroom is heaven. To translate that to everyone in the kingdom – well, it'll take some work, but the subjects of America are used to their fair share of hard work. 

Tony whines again, grinding down on Steve's lap. 

"I've got you, sweetheart," Steve rumbles against the column of Tony's throat. "You're okay." 

"God, I'm so – is this _normal_? To want you this much?" 

Steve chuckles, pride and lust pooling low in his belly, and Tony's cheeks turn scarlet at the admission. 

"It's probably intensified by your heat, Tony. Not that I'm not happy to hear about you wanting me – feel free to repeat that." 

Tony sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth and worries at it for a moment. "I do," he says, finally, voice barely above a whisper. "I do want you." 

"It's okay," Steve says, bringing both hands up to cradle Tony's face, to keep his gaze on Steve's face so he can see the truth of his words. "It's more than okay, Tony, because I want you, too. You're beautiful, and funny, and you take me so well – of course I want you." 

"Please," Tony whispers, hips hitching forward. 

"Anything," Steve promises him, claiming Tony's mouth again. 

"I need your knot again," Tony says, sounding strained. "I need – I need you to fuck me." 

"That's good," Steve murmurs, wrapping his arms around Tony and pulling him closer. He slides a hand down Tony's arched spine, slips his fingers between the cheeks of his ass and dips two into his slick, still-loose hole. Tony moans, and Steve's cock throbs. 

Tony shifts up on his knees, tilts his hips and starts to push down, reaching one hand down to hold the base of Steve's cock, right at the beginning of his knot. He slides down, engulfing Steve in his slick, welcoming heat. 

Tony slides all the way down, taking Steve to the root, then wraps his arms around Steve's neck and pushes back up on his knees before sliding back down the length of Steve's cock again. 

Steve groans, pressing kisses against Tony's throat and collarbone as Tony slowly rides him. 

Tony picks up the pace before too long, thrusting down onto Steve's lap hard and fast, bucking wildly. He cries out every time he drops down, and his cock is leaking pre-come all over Steve's belly. 

"Please, Steve, please," he whines, grinding down. "I need – I need you – please." 

"You're stunning," Steve breathes, hands clenched tight around Tony's hips to help him lift and drop. "Gorgeous." 

"I need you," Tony cries. "I need – I need more, harder, please, it's not enough –" 

Steve growls, surging forward to push Tony down onto his back in one quick movement, driving into him hard and fast. 

Tony cries out, mouth open wide as he gasps for air. His cock is rock hard, slapping his own belly as Steve fucks into him. 

"Please, please, please," Tony cries, clawing at Steve's shoulders. 

Tony is desperate, gorgeous, and needy, and Steve wants to give him everything. He wants to give Tony the hard fucking he's begging for. 

Steve pulls all the way out, heart clenching at Tony's sob of loss, and hurries to slide off the bed, grabbing Tony by the hips to haul him over to the edge and push him over onto his belly. 

Tony's legs splay wide desperately and he cants his hips back. Steve groans at the sight, of Tony's ass cheeks spread, of his slick hole gaping open and pink, waiting for Steve's knot to fill it. 

He dips a finger into Tony's hole, watching Tony's whole body shiver and his hole quiver and wink, trying to draw him in deeper. 

"Please, Steve," Tony moans, and Steve doesn't make him wait any longer. He doesn't have to bend his knees because the bed is high off the ground. He slides his cock back into Tony's body, revelling in the tight heat of it. 

"Knot me, knot me, knot me," Tony is chanting, and Steve pulls back before thrusting forward, harder and faster, again and again. Tony's breaths are coming out in desperate sobs, his hands grasping at the bedding. 

Steve leans forward, braces his hand on the middle of Tony's back to hold him down, and curls his other hand around Tony's shoulder to hold him close, to make sure that the force of Steve's thrusts don't push Tony away from him. 

"Yeah, yeah, do it, knot me, fuck, please," Tony is gasping, and Steve is so close, he can feel his balls drawing up, feel his cock throbbing and pulsing on the edge of his orgasm. 

"Come on," Steve grunts, teeth clenched with the effort of his thrusting. "Come for me, honey, you come on my cock and I'll give you my knot." 

Tony wails, whole body bowing and tightening as he comes, and that's enough to push Steve over, too – he shoves forward, grinding his hips into Tony's plump ass, burying his cock deep inside him. His knot swells, stretching Tony's hole open and eliciting a wail of pleasure and triumph from both of them. 

When Steve's knot is fully formed, holding him tight and flush inside Tony's body, he rocks forward a few times, grinding it against Tony's prostate. 

Tony convulses almost immediately, his whole body seizing and shaking, jerking under Steve's. It's amazing and beautiful and the most erotic thing Steve has ever seen, the deep, full-body orgasm Tony can have on his knot. He'd thought the first time might have been a one-off, but to have it happen again is thrilling, and Steve wonders if Tony will come on his knot like this all the time, if Tony will let Steve fuck him like this even after his heat. 

He shoves the thought away, unable to deal with the possibility that Tony's heat is the only reason Tony would be in Steve's bed. It's true, at least, that his heat is the reason Tony had _come_ to Steve's bed, but he hopes Tony finds a reason to stay. 

Tony finishes his intense orgasm, whole body going slack against the bed. His face is turned to the side, and Steve watches his eyelashes flutter, watches the blooms of colour on Tony's cheeks soften as his breathing slowly returns to normal. 

Steve's own knees want to give out, but he has to move slowly to make sure he doesn't hurt Tony – they're still locked together by his knot, after all. 

He leans forward and wraps his arms under Tony's chest, under his hips, and pulls him close against Steve's torso. He's strong enough to lift Tony without any trouble, so he picks Tony up, holding him so that his knot stays in place. Tony moans mindlessly as Steve rolls and lays on his back on the bed, letting his legs dangle off the side. Tony's legs are draped over the outside of Steve's thighs, so when Steve spreads his knees apart, it spreads Tony's legs further apart. 

Tony's cock and belly are slick and messy with his own come, his cock still half-hard. Steve reaches down and wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly but purposefully. 

"Oh, god," Tony moans, ass clenching around Steve's cock. Steve nestles his nose into the back of Tony's neck, scenting him and breathing him in, even as his other hand drags itself up to Tony's nipple, pinching and rolling the little brown bead between his fingers. Tony writhes, bringing one arm up behind his head to card his fingers through Steve's hair. 

Steve strokes his hand a little faster on Tony's cock, watching in fascination as Tony starts to harden again. The head of his cock is deep red, obviously sensitive, and Steve wonders how far he can push Tony, how many times he can make the Omega come for him. 

His knot starts to shrink down, but Steve's cock stays rock hard – he attributes it to the feeling of Tony's ass clenching around him, slick and full of Steve's own come, as well as the sight of Tony writhing as Steve jerks him off, and the tiny, breathless moans he's making. 

He fucks into Tony from below, speeding up the hand he's using to stroke Tony's cock. Tony cries out, spurts come up over his chest, shivering with another orgasm. 

"Please," Tony whines, shaking his head. "Please, please, Steve, it's too much." 

"Does it hurt, sweetheart?" 

"No, it's not – I mean, yes, but it's – it's just too much, please," Tony gasps. 

"I think you can handle it, honey," Steve rumbles in Tony's ear. Tony keens, digging his fingers into Steve's thighs. "But I won't do anything to you that you don't want. Do you want me to stop?" 

"It's too much, I can't – I can't take it," Tony whines, even as his cock throbs, desperately trying to get hard again. His ass clenches around Steve's cock. 

"I need you to say the words, baby. Do you want me to stop?" 

"No," Tony gasps, hitching his hips back, thrusting down onto Steve's cock. "No, god, please don't stop." 

Steve growls triumphantly, rolling them to the side and hitching one of Tony's legs up so he can fuck into the Omega's body more deeply. 

Tony's limbs are weak and nearly useless, his whole body giving in to whatever Steve wants from it. 

As Steve fucks him, hard and fast, Tony's ass leaks slick and Steve's own spent come. Transfixed, Steve reaches down and swipes his fingers through the pool of it and brings his fingers up to Tony's lips. 

Tony licks and sucks at Steve's fingers greedily, swirling his tongue over the digits to lick up every drop. Steve groans, bracing himself on his knees and straddling Tony's thigh, pushing the other one up higher so he can watch his cock disappear inside Tony's body as he fucks him. 

Tony's cock is soft and spent, but Tony is still moaning, whining and crying out with every thrust. 

"Steve, god, Steve," he whimpers, burying his face in the blankets on the bed. 

"You feel so good, honey," Steve groans, thrusting harder. "You're so good for me." 

"M'good f'r you," Tony mumbles, arching a little. His cock gives a valiant twitch, but stays soft. 

"Yes, sweetheart, you're so, so good. You're perfect," Steve tells him, feeling his knot start to swell again. His orgasm builds in the base of his belly, his balls tightening. "I'm gonna come in you, honey, give you my knot again." 

"Yeah," Tony moans, almost dreamily. "Yeah, gimme y'r knot." 

Steve groans, revelling in the feeling of his knot swelling and locking them together again. He grinds forward, watching as Tony shudders and jerks. His cock stays soft, but a dry orgasm overtakes him and he cries out, his whole body tensing and shaking. 

He goes slack all at once, and Steve drops to the bed, keeping Tony's hips locked to his. He groans, shivering, and pets over Tony's arms and back, soothing the Omega's sweaty skin. 

"I'm gonna die here," Tony moans, slurring. "I'm gonna die here 'n it's gonna be great." 

Steve laughs breathlessly, pressing light kisses to whatever parts of Tony's skin he can reach. "Rest, sweetheart," he whispers against Tony's damp skin. "Rest, and when you wake up we'll have a bath and eat." 

"You'll do all the heavy lifting? I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk for a while." 

Steve grins, reaching up to kiss Tony's soft, full lips. "I'll carry you to the bath and back, I swear." 

Tony sighs happily, burrowing into the bedding. His hand slides down Steve's arm, and he laces his fingers with Steve before he falls asleep. 

Steve watches him sleep until his knot shrinks enough for him to move, and then he gently pulls a blanket over them both and settles in to doze himself. 


	6. Separation

On the third morning, Tony wakes slowly, confused. He's in Steve's bed, which is unsurprising. What _is_ a surprise about the whole thing is that Tony is in the bed by himself, wrapped up in a cocoon of comfortable blankets. His skin feels tacky with dried sweat and slick and semen, but it also feels blessedly cool. 

The fever has broken, and his heat is over. 

He pops his head up from the nest of blankets to see if he can find Steve. Maybe Steve had gotten out of bed to secure them some breakfast. Tony hadn't eaten much over the past few days, his heat pushing aside any appetite, and now he's ravenous. He'd seen all manner of delicate pastries in Steve's rooms over the past two days, and his stomach growls hopefully as he looks around. 

Steve is nowhere in the room. Tony works his way to the side of the large bed, getting up on unsteady legs and padding over to the bedroom door. He reaches down for Steve's shirt, laying crumpled on the floor. Tony drapes it over his shoulders and buttons up the bottom buttons to hide his genitals, at least. Just in case. 

He opens it, peering out. 

Steve is in the living space, hunched over a low table. Sitting across from him is Wilson, looking grim. Tony's glad he'd taken the time to cover up the worst of his nudity. 

"Does it have to be _now_?" Steve asks, keeping his voice hushed. 

"You know it does," Wilson tells him, tone low. "I don't like it either, man, but we've been –" 

"I know," Steve sighs. "I know, it's fine. Just let me –" Steve stands and turns around, coming face to face with Tony, who's standing in the bedroom door. 

"Tony," Steve says, blinking. His cheeks flush and his eyes roam over Tony's chest and legs. Wilson, beside him, lets out a strangled noise and then averts his eyes back to the floor. 

"I was just –" Tony starts, but he can't finish the sentence. _Looking for you?_ _Lonely? Hungry?_ No, they all sound too pathetic. 

"I'm sorry, Tony, we didn't mean to wake you," Steve says, ushering Tony back into the bedroom. Tony's own cheeks heat up a little – had coming out of the bedroom somehow made Steve look weak or foolish in front of one of his subjects? Maybe Steve had wanted to keep their heat-related activities under wraps. So no one would know he'd taken pleasure in Tony's body? 

Tony glances down at himself as Steve closes the door behind them, noting the bruises from strong fingers and lovebites all over his chest and thighs. It makes him shiver a little, this evidence of his Alpha's pleasure. As much as he'd like a bath and some breakfast, he'd happily take another spin on his Alpha, too. 

"I'm sorry," Steve says again. "Sam… brought news. I wanted to let you sleep." 

"It's fine," Tony says, glancing back up at Steve. He doesn't seem upset about Tony making an appearance outside the bedroom, but he does seem upset. "I didn't mean to interrupt." 

"No, no, it's – better. It's okay, I have to talk to you." Steve sighs, and leads Tony back over to the bed. Tony's ass twitches, a bead of slick forming as he thinks of all the lovely things Steve had done to him in that bed. _Would again_ do to him in that bed. 

He hopes. 

"Is there something wrong?" Tony asks, spine tense. Steve sits down and pulls Tony down onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of Tony's neck. 

"I have to go," Steve says after a few long, deep breaths. Tony shivers at the rumble of his words against Tony's tender throat. 

"A trip? I can have my things packed in no time," Tony tells him. 

"No, Tony, you can't – I have to go alone. It's… I just got word. Some of my people managed to capture a troop of Chitauri, coming up on the south border." 

Tony's whole body tenses, but he doesn't ask any questions. He knows what's coming. 

"I have to take Sam and Bucky and Clint, and we're going to go down and… deal with it." 

"Deal with it how?" Tony asks, voice small. 

"We'll ask them why they're coming through our borders, try to find out if it's part of a larger attack plan." 

"Is it dangerous?" Tony is suddenly gripped with a choking sensation, a tightness in his chest. What if something were to happen to Steve? He'd be out there, unprotected against the elements and the enemy, and it could be an ambush. Steve could end up killed or captured. What would happen to Tony then? Surely he'd be shipped back to Howard, in disgrace and used, and he'd never be able to escape again. 

"No, honey, no," Steve says, nuzzling in behind Tony's ear. He takes Tony's trembling hand in his own. "It's not dangerous. We're just going to go ask some questions, try and get some information." 

"From a Chitauri scout troop?" Tony tries to make his tone dry, but doesn't quite succeed. 

Steve lets out a low huffing laugh anyway. "I'll leave Natasha with you," he says. "She'll keep an eye out, make sure you're okay." 

"I have Pepper and Rhodey," Tony says, mildly affronted on their behalf. "He's been my bodyguard for years." 

"I know. I'll just feel better if Nat's here. I trust her, and you can, too." 

Tony stays in Steve's arms for a moment, enjoying the closeness. It's different than the closeness they've had over the last few days, but just as compelling, to Tony's mind. 

"When do you leave?" he asks, dreading it. 

"Right now," Steve says, voice sad. "I have to go right now." 

"But we just –" 

"I know, I wish it could be any other way," Steve says, arms tightening around Tony's body. "I wanted to – it doesn't matter. It'll only be for a couple of weeks." 

Tony's head jerks up at that. "Weeks? Not – not days or – why weeks?" 

"It's all the way to the south," Steve grimaces. "And we can't go straight down, that would be too risky." 

"You said you wouldn't be in danger," Tony argues. 

"Not if we don't go straight down," Steve tells him. "We'll go around the perimeter, toward the beach, so they can't sneak up on us. It'll go fast, you'll see." 

Tony shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything. 

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve sighs. "I really didn't think I'd have to leave you so soon." 

"At least my heat is over," Tony says, trying to sound cheerful so Steve will stop sounding sad. 

"I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd had to go a few days ago." 

Tony does shudder, at the thought. 

"I promise, I'll come home as soon as I can," Steve tells him, pressing a kiss to Tony's temple. He stands, setting Tony down on the bed. "You can – stay here, if you like. Or go back to your rooms, if you'd be more comfortable, I don't… whatever you want. Natasha and everyone else will take good care of you." 

Steve stands and heads awkwardly for the door. He stops, halfway, looks as though he's going to come back, as though he wants to say something to Tony. 

Tony swallows roughly, eyes locked on Steve, whole body thrumming with anticipation of something he doesn't know. 

A knock on the bedroom door startles them both, and Steve whirls around, breaking the spell. 

"Sorry, Steve, I just – they're ready to go," Wilson says through the door. "They're waiting on us." 

"Of course," Steve calls back. "I'll be – I'll be right there." 

He turns back and gives Tony an apologetic smile, but the moment that had been there before is gone. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he says. "Be... well, okay?" 

Tony nods, and raises a hand in a wave, but Steve is already on his way out the door, leaving Tony alone in the bedroom that smells of their lovemaking. 

+++++ 

He'd taken a pastry from the table in Steve's room, then gotten dressed and made his way through the castle to his own room. It's early enough in the morning that no one had seen him, thankfully. He doesn't even need to send for Pepper – she comes into the room shortly after Tony arrives, a basket containing breakfast in her arms. 

Which, he supposes, means at least one of the service staff must have seen him and sent for her. 

"Good morning, your highness," she says cheekily as she comes in and closes the door. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes bright. "I trust you had a lovely heat?" 

"What do you mean you _trust_ I had a lovely heat? What's that supposed to mean?" He feigns confusion even as his own cheeks pink – albeit for different reasons. 

Pepper rolls her eyes, setting out bits of meat and cheese and pulling out a – thank god – flask of coffee. "You know exactly what I mean, Tony. The servants were talking – before I reminded them that they would be better suited to respect their lord and their prince both – earlier and _apparently_ it sounded, from the corridors, that you and Lord Steven were having a wonderful time!" 

Tony scowls. "They're making that up," he says, biting viciously into a warm bread roll. He picks a knife out of Pepper's basket and dips the end into a butter dish, dabbing it fastidiously on his bread. "Steve isn't loud at all." 

Pepper's grin turns slightly feral. "No, but you are." 

Tony sighs. "Fine. _Fine_. It was… good." 

"Yeah?" Pepper asks, eyes warm and twinkling happily as she slides into the chair beside him, leaning her head in conspiratorially. "He was good to you?" 

Tony can't help the shiver, the way his eyelashes flutter as though his eyes want to roll back into his head – again. God, he'd come so many times in the last three days he's not actually certain how it is that he's able to walk right now. Plus Steve's amazing, ridiculous, huge-but-not-terrifying-at-all-after-the-first-time-anyway cock had felt so good inside him, had made him feel things he hadn't known he could feel. God, it had been the most amazing heat, the most amazing sex on the planet. 

But now Steve's gone, and Tony's here alone. 

"Hey," Pepper says, and Tony's mood change must have showed on his face because she looks concerned now. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing. We had a good time. We are well consummated. No problems with the bonding contract here." 

"Tony, he didn't hurt you, did he? I'll–" 

"No," Tony tells her, holding up a hand. "No, he didn't hurt me, Pep, he was – it was good, it was _really_ good, but he's gone." 

Pepper blinks at him for a moment. "Gone?" she asks, face paling. "Tony, what do you mean, he's gone–" 

Tony can see her gearing up for an explosion, so he does the only thing he's learned how to do when Pepper's about to lose her cool, and tries to talk over her, because at least he can get his piece out while she's busy spiraling into a true tizzy. 

"–He got word that a group of his men had caught a Chitauri scout or maybe a troop, I can't remember–" 

But Pepper doesn't stop talking, her voice raising in pitch even as she talks over him. 

"–Did something happen to him? Did you say something? Why would he leave–" 

"–And he said he was going to the border, where they've got him, or them, or – it doesn't matter, he was going to the south, so he can question the prisoner–" 

"–And what kind of Alpha just _takes off_ in the middle of their Omega's heat, and their _consummation_ heat, at that–" 

"–It's not the middle, Pepper, I finished my heat, he's a lord and he has important things to do–" 

"But you're his _mate_." 

Pepper stares at him. Tony sighs. 

"He had to go, Pepper. I thought he wanted me to go with him but he said it's too – but it doesn't matter, this is good, right? I mean, now I don't have to, like, be at his beck and call, and whatever. I'm free to read and, and get to know the castle a little better, and do whatever I want without having to, to go see to my Alpha's cock, or anything–" 

"–Don't be crass, Tony–" 

"And it's better this way, it really is." 

Pepper tilts her head, studying him for a long moment, before she gives him a small smile. "No it's not," she says. 

"No," he agrees, eyes on the floor. "It's not." 

"But… so he had to go. Did he… want to go?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Did he, you know, feel bad about it?" 

Tony thinks about Steve's searching eyes, the way he'd taken Tony's hands in his, the way he'd called Tony 'sweetheart' even when he hadn't been fucking him. The way Steve had held him, like he'd been something precious. 

"Maybe." 

+++++ 

Tony is sitting in his rooms by himself, flipping through an architecture book and feeling bored and lonely and rejected, when there's a knock at the door. Thinking it must be Rhodey, Tony simply calls from the chair, "Come in!" 

The door opens, and it's not Rhodey striding into the room at all. It's Natasha, Steve's redheaded friend. The one Steve had said would stay behind to keep an eye on him. 

Like he was some kind of pet to be taken care of. 

The ugly thought makes Tony frown. Steve's been nothing but nice to him, and Tony needs to remember that. Even if Steve had taken off as soon as Tony's heat had broken. 

And Steve had said he'd be gone for weeks, but somehow Tony hadn't thought it would feel so long. But it has been almost two weeks, and he's spent most of the time in his rooms, finding ways to excuse himself from any of Pepper's planned outings. He takes his meals in his room, reads his books, and thinks about all the engineering he _isn't_ doing because he's just an Omega bitch there to service his Alpha's knot. 

There he goes again. 

"Your highness," Natasha says, dipping her chin lightly in a loose approximation of a bow, and gracefully moving to sit at the table with him before he can even stand to greet her more politely. 

He slams his book closed, flipping it over onto its front to try and hide the title, but Natasha darts out a hand and grabs the book, pulling it across to herself and flipping it back over. 

"A little light reading?" she asks, one eyebrow quirked up. "Somehow I don't think the best way to please your Alpha's knot has anything to do with architecture." 

A cold feeling of panic and dread drops in his belly, and he feels his face drain of colour. "I was just–" 

He doesn't know how to finish the sentence, but she's peering at him now, eyes sharp. But she doesn't look disapproving at all. They stare at each other for a long moment, then she slides the book back across the table to him. He puts his hand on the cover automatically, as though to protect the book from any further manhandling. 

"So how are things?" Natasha asks him, her voice too obviously casual. "The castle is simply _abuzz_ with how Steve must have completely torn you apart, since you haven't been able to leave your rooms since he knotted you." 

Tony stares at her, mouth slack. "What?" 

"Or, you know, the elixir that gave him his health and strength must have also made him feral and, well, you know how theories start in small places like this. Some of the townspeople think you might even be dead, though the staff keeps sending food up with Ms. Potts." 

"I'm _fine_. Steve was – he was _nice_." 

Natasha smiles again, slow and sly like a cat who'd just lapped up a bowl of cream. "I bet he was." 

Tony's cheeks – which, honestly, shouldn't he be immune to sexual embarrassment by now? – heat and he scowls at her. "Stop that. I'm not going to talk about my… relations with my bondmate. Not with you." 

Natasha stands up from the table, quite suddenly, and moves into the little kitchen area and pulls two mugs from the shelves and a box of tea, and goes about – without discussing it with Tony _at all_ – putting together two cups of tea. 

He watches her for a moment before speaking. "Why are you here?" 

"I wanted to make sure you weren't dead, after all," she says. "Steve specifically asked me to keep an eye on you. I had intended to casually run into you in the courtyard or something, but you've made that very difficult." 

"I don't need a babysitter," Tony says petulantly as she brings the two cups back to the table, setting one in front of Tony. She sits back down and stirs her own tea lightly with a spoon, and Tony thinks it might be entirely calculated, because he doesn't think she added anything to her tea besides water. 

"Good, I'm a terrible babysitter," she says. "I'm just checking in to make sure you're okay." 

"I'm good, thank you, you can go." 

She smiles at him again, and this time it's more natural, more warm. "I'm just here for a visit, your highness." 

Tony rolls his eyes. "You might as well call me 'Tony'," he says, frowning. He's kept most of Steve's friends treating him more formally than that, and he's not entirely sure why he's not doing the same with Natasha. Maybe it's the way she's made herself at home. Or the way she's managing to disrespect all his personal space boundaries while still managing to be quite respectful. 

"Tony, then," she says, taking a sip of her tea. Tony stares at his for another moment before he takes a drink – not because he has any particular desire for tea, but because it's in front of him and gives him something to do with his hands. 

"So," he says, putting his cup back on the table gently. "Have you sufficiently convinced yourself I'm okay?" 

"Oh, I knew you were okay," she says. "I did my homework. I just thought I'd properly introduce myself, and I wanted to get to know you a little better." 

"Ah," Tony says. This, he understands. He's used to the curious stares and gawking when people realize they're in the presence of a Consort. That kind of attention, he can handle. 

His body language shifts immediately, and while his spine stays straight, he somehow manages to tip his head down just enough to present a picture of submission, of reverence. "I'm not anyone special, really," he says, letting his voice take on the slightly breathy tone people expect from a Consort. 

To his surprise, her body language exactly mirrors his. She hasn't changed her facial expression but her lips look pouty, suddenly, as she glances up at him from underneath her eyelashes, lifting a hand to tuck a stray lock of shockingly beautiful red hair behind her ear. "Oh, but, your grace, you're a _prince_ ," she breathes, voice musical and husky. "And a handsome one at that." 

He stares at her, shocked, for a long moment. 

"You have _training_ ," he says, his voice shocked and delighted, and all his own training flies out the window as he leans forward in excitement, clasping a hand over her wrist. "Were you at the Academy? You can't be much older than me, how could I have missed you?" 

"I wasn't at the Academy," she interrupts. "I'm from Krasnyygorod." 

He blinks. 

He's never been to Krasnyygorod. His father had threatened to send him there a time or two, to be sure, but it hadn't been safe for him to visit, even as the king's son. 

The people of Starkland had long cut ties with Krasnyygorod – there'd been a trade embargo for years, mostly based on the way they treated their Omega population. There had been a few refugees through the years, but Tony doesn't think he's ever met an Omega who'd been through their rigorous training programs. 

"I see you've heard of it," she says with a knowing look. "I was placed in a training centre as a child, and I left a few years ago. I wandered into America, and Steve… has been good to me." 

The training centres in Krasnyygorod had long been a terrible story told to misbehaving Omegas in Starkland. Not as a threat, of course – that would have been cruel – but as a cautionary tale. 'Sure, you can't be a doctor, but at least you don't live in _Krasnyygorod_.' 'No, of course you can't bond without a dowry and you're treated like a second class citizen, but in Krasnyygorod the Omegas aren't even that – they're chattel, kept and traded and used like animals.' 

The training programs in Krasnyygorod are like a terrifying parody of the Academy in Starkland. Omegas don't learn anything about diplomacy or politics or manners. They're taught to use their bodies in order to give Alphas pleasure, and only to give Alphas pleasure. 

The lucky Omegas got out before they were ever sent to the programs. 

Tony hasn't met anyone lucky enough to have been in the training programs and gotten out. 

"How?" he asks, simply. He doesn't want to finish the sentence, to say the words out loud. 'How did you escape? How did you survive?' 

"I fought my way out," she shrugs. "They'd decided on an experiment. You see, the Krasnyy sex slaves are a highly sought-after commodity, among Alphas in countries with no moral compass. Or, I suppose, among Alphas that can get away with it. The government wanted to find out what would happen if they trained their whores as double agents – to get them into the bed of a high-ranking Alpha somewhere and have them steal secrets or assassinate their enemies." 

"Jesus," Tony breathes. 

"So they taught us some other skills. I… made use of those skills, to get out." 

Tony doesn't know what to say. Anything complimenting her strength or resilience would only sound trite. 

But knowing she's an Omega, and one that had lived through the Krasnyygorod training programs… well, he feels a kinship with her. 

"But now I live here," she says, sweeping an arm up to gesture around the room, to indicate America. "Steve is very kind to me." 

"That's good," Tony says, at a loss. He has questions, but he can't ask them. "That he's kind to you." 

"Steve is kind to most people," she shrugs. "I'd hoped he would be kind to you, too." 

"He's been very kind," Tony admits. 

"The first thing he did, when I arrived and he found out where I'd come from, was make sure I had suppressants, did you know that?" 

Tony stares at her again. Suppressants? Just like that? He hadn't had to speak to any councils about it or anything? No bureaucracy to deal with, a bunch of red tape that just wouldn't ever be cut through? Tony had been on suppressants because he'd been at the Academy, but he's never known of an Omega out in the world, in Starkland, who was on them. Bonded or not; if nothing else, it was a good way to get themselves bonded to someone. 

"There aren't a lot of Omegas in the kingdom, but they all get to have suppressants if they want them," she says, as though reading his mind. "Even the bonded ones." 

Tony blinks. 

"And he won't treat you differently just because you're his mate," Natasha continues. "If you want suppressants, you'll have them." 

Tony doesn't know what to say to that. How do you ask your Alpha-slash-king-slash-bondmate for suppressants? Do you just bring it up at dinner? 'Your highness, I know it makes you feel like a virile Alpha when I beg for your knot but can we just stop doing that?' God, Steve would be so upset. 

"He wouldn't mind," she says, again, gentler this time. "He wouldn't pressure you for anything, he wouldn't take advantage of you. He isn't the type." 

But if Tony goes on suppressants, he won't even _want_ Steve. And those nights he was in heat, when Steve worshipped and ravaged his body in turns – that would be a thing of the past. Tony would be nothing but a disappointment. 

Natasha is watching him carefully, scrutinizingly, but she doesn't say anything more. Tony gets the feeling she's examining him, cataloguing his responses, reading his mind. He doesn't want her to know what's going through his head right now, though, so he takes another sip of his tea, changing the subject. 

"So who else went with them, to question the Chitauri?" 

"Bruce is still here, and me. Everyone else has gone, though." 

He's about to flounder for something else to talk about, but Natasha rises to her feet, setting her tea cup down on the table with a soft click. "I'll leave you to your tea," she says, giving him a look that lets him know he's not fooling anyone. "You think about what I said." 

He doesn't pretend not to know what she's talking about, but he doesn't agree to it, either. She walks out the door without a second look back, as though she knows he won't be able to _stop_ thinking about it. 

+++++ 

It's days later when he receives word – through Rhodey – that Steve has returned. In fact, Steve arrives home and heads straight to his own rooms. Tony expects to hear from him, to be summoned to him, something. But nothing happens. Steve arrives home, and simply… goes about his business. 

The servants tell Pepper, and Pepper tells Tony, that the whole team had arrived back, and brought their Chitauri prisoner with them. They'd been unable to glean any information from him, and brought him home so they could continue their interrogation. 

It's Steve's second day back by the time he seeks Tony out – he knocks on Tony's door in the middle of the afternoon. Some part of Tony betrays him and hopes Steve will shoulder his way through the door and take him there, in his own bed. 

Steve's cheeks are pink, and his eyes dart down Tony's body and back up again. He swallows, and takes a half-step back into the hallway. 

"Tony. I hope you're well?" 

"I'm fine," Tony says, heart sinking at the distance Steve is putting between them. "How was your trip?" 

"It was fine. Uneventful, mostly – we'd have been better served if we'd brought Nat out with us. She's the better interrogator." 

Tony thinks about the things he and Natasha had talked about while Steve had been gone. Her tales of her upbringing, her training. He silently agrees that they should have taken her. If even half her stories are true – and Natasha doesn't seem like the type to embellish such things – Natasha had come back several times in the interim, regaling Tony with stories of Steve – during the war with Hydra and after, his first days navigating his new power in the kingdom. The way he'd overhauled America's orphanages, made sure no one in the kingdom was going hungry, no matter how poor. 

They'd been lovely stories, and if Tony is honest, it had made him feel warm in his chest, at how very _human_ Steve sounded. 

But now, Steve is home and he's in Tony's hallway and, maddenly, keeping his distance. 

"I hope you didn't find it too boring here, without everyone," Steve says, eyes casting to the side. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk? In the garden, maybe?" 

Tony thinks about the last day they'd spent in that garden, the day his heat had come. It had been the first time he'd really felt like he'd _connected_ with Steve. 

"I'd like that," he says. "We can go now, if you want." 

"Please," Steve says. Tony expects him to offer an elbow for Tony to take, but he only gestures to the hallway, offering for Tony to precede him. "After you," he says. 

Tony steps into the hall and closes the door behind himself, disheartened when Steve takes another small step back, keeping his distance. 

They walk through the halls quietly and make their way out to the grounds, headed for the enchanted garden. The snow on the cobbled streets has started to melt, leaving puddles in its wake. They walk with distance between them, and at one point Tony walks around a puddle while Steve walks around the other side of it entirely. 

_So_ , Tony thinks to himself. _I guess I know where we stand, then._

Steve opens the door to the garden, gesturing for Tony to go in first. It's still beautiful – bright and lush and full of beautiful flowers. They make their way down a row of roses, still not saying anything. 

Steve clears his throat and speaks first. "I wanted to apologize about… everything." 

Cold in the pit of Tony's stomach, but he steels himself for the rest of it. He knows what's coming. 

"It wasn't fair of me." 

"It's fine," Tony says. He keeps his tone light, keeps the edge out of it, but he wants to scream, to yell. It's _not_ fine. He'd thought… he'd thought Steve had liked him, at least. A little. But Steve had only wanted him because of his heat, because of the smell of his arousal. It had been biology, nothing more. 

"It's not," Steve says. "I… was rough with you, I know. And then, before we could talk about it, before we could do anything else, before I could show you… anyway, I left. That wasn't fair. I wish I hadn't had to go. I'm sorry." 

"But you did have to go," Tony reminds him. "You don't have to apologize for that, it was important." 

"Yes, I do," Steve says. "Of course I do, Tony. I shouldn't have left you alone. I should have found a way." 

"I was fine. I… talked to Natasha. A little. It was fine." 

Steve studies him for a moment, as though he could see what Tony had talked to Natasha about – her past, suppressants, what it's like being an Omega in America – on Tony's face. And for all Tony knows, maybe Steve can. "I'm glad. I thought you two might get along." 

Tony feels his cheeks heat. Had Steve done it on purpose? Left Natasha at home to talk to Tony, convince him that Steve wasn't the kind of Alpha he'd read about in school? That Steve would let Tony do what he wanted, have what he wanted? 

He moves forward, fingering a stalk of gladiolus, hunting a change of subject. "So, you're back, now." 

"I shouldn't have to go anywhere again," Steve says quickly. "I'll make sure." 

"Steve…" Tony sighs. "I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to leave the kingdom again _eventually_. There's no point treating me like…" 

"Like what, Tony?" 

_Like I won't have to be here without you,_ Tony thinks. "Like I can't handle it when you go. You're going to have to go, and I'm going to have to stay here, and it will be fine. It will always be fine." 

Steve studies him again, then reaches down and picks an alstroemeria stem. He presents it to Tony with a half-smile. 

Tony stares at it. Alstroemeria means friendship. Respect and trust. 

It doesn't mean 'I want to bend you over the nearest bench and have my way with you'. 

"I want you to know," Steve says before trailing off, turning and taking a few more strolling steps down the path. Tony keeps pace with him. "I want you to know that you can have your own space. You don't… you don't owe me anything. I don't want you to feel like you're, you're obligated. Or anything." 

_Ah_. Tony keeps his face frozen and closed, keeps his eyes on the path in front of them. Ignores the way his eyes are hot, the way his cheeks are tight. 

"I want you to have your own space," Steve continues. He's either oblivious to Tony's heart breaking, his stomach sinking with the feeling of being unwanted, or he's soldiering on anyway because he doesn't _want_ Tony's heartbreak, doesn't want Tony to want him. 

Doesn't want Tony. 

"Of course," Tony says, his words barely above a whisper. "I wouldn't want to crowd you, my Lord." He turns, making to head back toward the gates. He moves deliberately, doing his best not to turn and run, to escape this humiliation, this pain. 

Steve reaches out, takes hold of his wrist. He doesn't hold it hard, but his hand is warm and solid and it freezes Tony in his tracks. 

"I get the feeling that whatever I just said, you heard something different," he says, keeping his warm, dry fingers looped around Tony's wrist. It feels like a firebrand. 

"No, I understand," Tony says, not quite meeting his eyes. He chooses his words carefully. "We both need space. We bonded, just like we were supposed to, and now, you…" 

"And now I want you to know you're not obligated to do anything else," Steve says, nodding. "Do you understand?" 

"Of course I do," Tony says. "And I… I get it. I do." 

Steve eyes him for another long moment before he finally lets go of Tony's wrist. He doesn't say anything else, though. 

"I should… get going," Tony says. "I have… I told Pepper…" He struggles, unable to come up with a lie, when his wrist feels so cold, so exposed. 

"Okay. Thank you, for coming for a walk with me," Steve says, still watching him carefully. "Would you… like to have dinner with me? Soon? It doesn't have to be tonight, it can be tomorrow, or the day after. Or… I don't know, you might be busy." 

"I'm not," Tony admits. "I could… tomorrow? Dinner, tomorrow." 

Steve sighs, and it sounds relieved. Of course he does. Tony understands – Steve doesn't want to take Tony to bed again, but it would be better if the kingdom thinks of them as bondmates. Meals together are a good way of solidifying that. Steve would know that. 

"I'm looking forward to it," he says. 

"Great," Tony says, taking a few halting steps toward the main gate. Steve doesn't reach out to stop him this time. "I'll see you for dinner tomorrow, then." 

He turns on his heel and heads for the gate, just barely managing to keep himself from running. God, he's an idiot. 

+++++ 

He's just finished dinner alone in his rooms when Natasha comes to his door. She looks tired, her cheeks pink in her pale face. 

"Long day?" Tony asks her, opening the door and gesturing toward his sitting room. She sweeps into the room and sits down, somehow managing to make flopping onto his sofa look graceful. 

"Long and frustrating," she says, stretching her arms above her head. 

"Would you like some tea?" he asks her, already heading for the cabinet. He has a kettle of water over the fire already, having thought maybe he'd see Pepper for tea after dinner. 

"I'd love some, thank you," she says, giving him a tired smile. 

He busies himself with fixing their tea, then brings her a cup and saucer. He sets hers down in front of her, and takes his own to a chair, sitting down to face her. Part of him would rather be alone, if he's honest, to lick his wounds after the afternoon with Steve in the garden, but this is going to be his life, now, here in America. Being alone in his room. He'll wish for the company at some point, so he might as well have it now. 

"So," he says. "Tell me about your day." 

"The Alphas and Betas brought their chitauri scout home with them," she says with a little eyeroll. He can tell, she's trying to put him at ease by grouping the two of them together, as Omegas, as unspoken as it is. He's ashamed to admit that it does help. He does feel more at ease with Natasha than with anyone else around here. He's used to spending time with Omegas, after all. It's the rest of them he barely has a handle on. "They questioned him for days out at the border." 

Tony grimaces a little. Tries to imagine what it had been like. 

"They didn't get a word out of him," Natasha continues. "Honestly, I thought Clint would have done better." 

Tony blinks. "Clint?" 

"He's a good spy, when he wants to be," she says. "He may not seem like it, but he picks up on a lot of little cues. He had you pegged right away, after all." 

Tony blinks at her. "What?" 

She smirks. "Right off the bat. First thing he said to me. 'That one's gonna be trouble.'" 

Tony rolls his eyes. "Hardly overly perceptive," he says. 

She grins this time. "Still." 

"So, you think you could get more from him? The scout?" 

She snorts delicately. "I _did_ get more from him. They're not planning a war yet, but they're preparing for one." 

Tony almost spills his tea over his lap. "What? Does Steve know?" 

She gives him an unimpressed look. "I just came from there. He was moping, so I didn't stay after I told him what I'd learned." 

Tony ignores that. "So how can they be preparing for a war without planning one?" 

"I asked the same thing. I don't think they're _smart_ enough to plan a war. They're amassing their warriors and their weapons. Either they'll wait for an opportune time to strike, or they'll get bored and attack our southern borders. Either way, at least we're more ready for them now." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, with you here, and everything that came with you," she says. 

Tony blinks. 

"You _do_ know that's why Steve contracted with King Howard, don't you?" 

Of course. Now, as it's sinking in, Tony realizes he'd been incredibly stupid. 

He'd known Steve had contracted with Howard. He'd known it was about more than just getting an Omega to bond. The food, of course, because of the harsh winter. But the soldiers. The ones who had come along with Tony and, now that he thinks about it, had not left the area and headed back to Starkland. 

Tony feels his stomach sink, feels his skin crawl with the shock of understanding. He'd known he'd been nothing but currency to Howard. That Howard was bonding him to the Alpha in America so he'd have his claws back in the little kingdom. 

He hadn't even considered that Steve hadn't _asked_ for him. That Howard had thrown him in. Like the thirteenth roll in a baker's dozen. Like a, like a free sample. Like an inn's daily special, designed specifically to use up ingredients that would go rotten soon. 

Steve hadn't wanted him at all. Howard had just wanted him _less_. 

"Tony?" Natasha's face is pinched, her eyebrows slanted in concern. "Are you okay?" 

"Of course," he says, taking his tea cup back into his hand and sipping from it. It tastes like ash. He gulps it down, then – blatantly ignoring good manners – reaches out to take hers. It's only half-drunk, but he takes the two cups and stands up from the chair. "I'm quite tired, Natasha. I should head to bed." 

She stares at him, pursing her lips. "I said something," she says. 

"No, of course not," Tony tells her. "It's simply late." 

She glances back at him as she heads for the door, but he doesn't meet her eyes. "I don't know what I said," she says. "I'm sorry." 

"No apology necessary. Good night," he answers. He closes the door behind her, staring at the heavy wood grain of it. 

God. He's such an idiot. It had been bad enough when he'd thought that Steve had had his fill, had fucked the needy little Omega and was no longer interested. But now, to find out that Steve had never _been_ interested? Had he… he had been so charming, so dashing. He'd seemed to want Tony, when Tony had been in heat. Had it been an act? Hormones, instinctual from the smell of Tony's slick? 

Or worse, had it been pity? 

He crawls into bed without cleaning his teeth or anything else, burrowing under the blankets. He wants to hide, to die of shame. 

He doesn't sleep, though. After a few hours, he rises, heads for the trunk at the foot of his bed. He finds charcoals and paper, and he begins sketching. 

Designing. 

His fingers fly over the paper, drawing out equations and trajectories and arcs. He theorizes chemical reactions. He builds in his mind towering fortresses, long-range weapons, and diamond-hard armor. 

He works until the small hours of the morning, and then he finally falls into a dreamless sleep. 

+++++ 

Tony wakes late, to a knock on his door. He's still dressed from the night before, but there are pages of drawings and equations spread out all over his bed. He hastily shuffles them into a pile, throwing the blanket over them to hide them. He moves toward the door, opening it slowly and peering out into the hallway. 

Pepper is there, beaming at him, but she's not alone. 

Behind her, are several men and women. Mostly Betas, he thinks, though there might be an Alpha in the bunch. Rhodey is with them, too. Most of them have their arms full. Paper, drawing tools, pipes. 

Tony blinks. 

"Your highness," Pepper starts, face flushed. "I had a visit from Lord Steven this morning. He said you'd told him about your ideas for aqueducting in the kingdom." 

Tony blinks. Yes, actually, he had mentioned that. It had been, for lack of a better word, pillowtalk. 

Back when he'd thought Steve might want him, even temporarily. 

"Okay." 

"So he gathered some engineers," she continues, grinning. "He told the staff to make sure you had everything you needed." 

Tony looks over her shoulder, at the people – the engineers – in the hallway, at Rhodey. Rhodey has an odd expression on his face, as well. Some mixture of tentative awe, encouragement, even pride. 

"He wants me to… build aqueducts." 

"Gather your things," she tells him, and her voice takes on an edge. It's a warm edge, though. It's a tone that's telling him what to do because she knows him, knows him well enough to know that he's frozen now, not sure what to do. His footing is uneven, and he doesn't know what to do with this new information. 

Pepper, as always, takes charge. 

"There's a smith shop in the east wing, we're headed there. Rhodes will take the rest of the engineers there to set up." She turns and gives Rhodey a look, who sighs and turns to the engineers. 

"You heard the lady," he says, gesturing down the hall. "Let's get to work." 

Pepper comes in, and closes the door before they've cleared the hallway. 

She wraps her arms around him, and Tony only now realizes how badly he'd needed a hug. He sinks into her arms, breathing in her sweet, soothing Beta scent. 

"I don't know what you said to him," she says, heading straight for his wardrobe and pulling out comfortable working clothes. They're still fine, as far as linens go, but not as fancy as his usual wear. "But whatever it was, it worked. He brought me the team this morning. Said you were to have whatever you needed for the aqueduct project. Men, tools, supplies. All of it." 

Tony stares at her for a moment. "He wants the aqueducts that badly?" 

She rolls her eyes, then crosses her arms and meets his gaze. "Really?" 

"What?" 

"You can be so obtuse, Tony." 

"What??" 

She sighs. "When he came to me this morning, do you know what he said?" 

"I think you know I don't." 

"He said you'd mentioned something. A project. He said your eyes lit up when you talked about it. Engineering. Then you said something about the pipes, he said. The aqua somethings." 

"Okay, so he couldn't remember the word." 

She blinks at him. "No. Tony, you're not getting it. It wasn't about the aqueducts. It was about giving you something. A project. It was about giving you the opportunity to design, to build, to be a part of this kingdom in a way you could _never_ be in Starkland." 

"But I'm an Omega," he says. "Omegas don't…" 

"In America, apparently, they do." 

Tony wants to argue, but he can't think of an argument. Especially not after everything he and Natasha had talked about. If there were ever a place where an Omega could be an engineer, he supposes America is it. 

A thought shoves its way into his mind. "You said it wasn't about the aqueducts. Steve giving me… this." 

"No, Tony," she says, with a small smile. "I think it's about y–" 

"So what if I want to use the team to build something else? Do you think that would be okay?" 

She blinks. "Something else? Like what?" 

"Do you think he'd mind?" 

"I don't know him very well," she says. "Not as well as you. Do you think he'd mind?" 

Tony hesitates. 

"Don't think about the fact that he's an Alpha, that he's your Alpha. Think about _Steve_ ," she says, stepping forward and placing her hands on his shoulders. Her pretty green eyes bore into his. "It's _Steve_. Do you think _Steve_ would mind?" 

And no. When Tony thinks of it like that, when he thinks about Steve, he knows. Steve wouldn't mind. 

Their kingdom needs to be ready for war. 

Tony is going to do everything in his power to make sure they are. 

+++++ 

Tony sends a note to Steve to cancel dinner. He _does_ want to have dinner with his Alpha, but they've almost reached a breakthrough on one of the long range weapons, and Tony prioritizes. 

Tony and his team work that way for days. They make breakthrough after breakthrough. By the end of the fifth day, Tony sets the team to mass production. They have so much to do that Rhodey goes around to the other smiths in the kingdom and has them working on the various pieces. 

He goes for a long, hot bath, and he sleeps for 12 straight hours. 

His breakfast comes to his door in the morning with a note. 

_Please join me for dinner this evening,_ it says. It's from Steve. 

Shit. He should have known better. He shouldn't have taken it all for granted – he'd cancelled on Steve, and he'd spent a week being an _embarrassment_ of an Omega, acting like he could be an engineer, like he could do something other than lie on his back and spread his– 

It doesn't matter. He'll go to Steve, he'll have dinner with him, and he'll take his punishment like a man. 

He'd always excelled at that, anyway. 


	7. Satisfaction

There's a fork slightly askew on the table, and Steve adjusts it nervously. He doesn't know _why_ he's nervous. Tony had sent a note back with the kitchen staff saying he would, in fact, join Steve for dinner. Which is a good sign. 

On the other hand, Tony had cancelled dinner with him days ago, and Steve hasn't seen him since that day in the garden. 

"You're an idiot," Bucky had told him, when Steve had recounted the story of their conversation later. "I mean, I knew you were stupid, I did, but I don't think I realized to just what _depths_ that stupidity ran." 

"I just don't want him to feel like I _expect_ anything from him," Steve said, ignoring Bucky. 

"I mean, it's like words come out of your mouth that have _no connection_ to your brain at all. I would _cry_ for you if it weren't so ridiculous." 

"What else was I supposed to say?" Steve growled. "He already feels like he's, I don't know, beholden to me in some way–" 

"–Yes, because he _is_ beholden to you, he's your _bondmate_ , you literally _bonded_ with him–" 

"–and I want him to know that anything from here on out is his _choice_ , that I don't expect him to just be a warm body to knot–" 

"–Oh my god, Steve, that's not what you _said_ to him." 

"Of course it's not what I said," Steve said, affronted. 

"And that's the fucking _problem_ ," Bucky said, letting his head fall back in exasperation. He stared at the ceiling for a few beats. "You told him he didn't have to feel obligated, that he didn't have to sleep with you." 

"Yes?" Steve didn't understand the disconnect. He'd said exactly what he meant. Why was Bucky _angry_ with him? 

"And at what point did you tell him that you _did_ want him to want to sleep with you?" 

Steve blinked. "But that would have made it sound like I had an expectation that he would. Like I was telling him he _should_ want to sleep with me." 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus save me," he muttered. He took a deep breath and turned back to Steve. "I'm going to spell this out for you as easily as I can, I know the big words can be hard for you some days." 

Steve flipped his middle finger up in a rude gesture, almost on reflex. Bucky took it in stride, not even pausing. 

"The way you phrased it, Steve… it sounds like you were trying to let him down easy. Like you'd gotten your knot off, had the contractually obligated heat sex, and now you're done with him." 

Steve blinked back at him in horror. "What? No." 

"Yes, Steve. The words you should have used are 'I like you, Tony. I like you a lot. I think you're gorgeous and I'm ridiculous and stupid and I'd like you to sit on my lap'." 

"Jesus, Buck." 

"Or something to that effect. Because you never once told him you liked him. And, frankly, I would have said the biggest idiot in the whole kingdom could see that he's head over heels for you, too, except _you didn't see it at all_." 

Steve's brow furrowed. "He's supposed to act like that, he's trained to–" 

"It's not about his training, or his schooling, or anything else. It's about _you_ , you stubborn idiot. He likes _you_. Everyone else can see it." 

Steve sits quietly for a moment, going over it in his mind. If he pulls back, tries to look at it objectively… okay, well, he supposes he can see it. The way Tony had been nervous around him that afternoon in the garden. How he'd shut down when Steve had suggested that Tony definitely didn't have to sleep with him, nope, not at all. How he'd let himself fall apart in Steve's arms those nights they'd been together, shutting the whole world out and getting lost in each other's bodies. 

"Oh, I'm an idiot." 

"God, _finally_." 

"So what now?" 

Bucky smiled at him. "Well, your lordship, Clint's been keeping an eye on your boy for you." 

"He's not my _boy_ ," Steve interrupted. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine. Your bondmate. Whatever. Anyway, Clint said you set him up with a bunch of tools, a workshop, and some engineers?" 

"He likes engineering," Steve said, his voice small but proud. "I wanted him to have something he likes." 

"And it's a very romantic gift, for someone dumb as you, congratulations," Bucky agreed patronizingly. "However, whatever it is you told him to build, he ignored you." 

"He'd said he could – that Starkland had running water. _Hot_ running water. He said he could do that here." 

"But _instead_ , he's been building weapons," Bucky said, crossing his arms smugly. "Weapons like Clint has never even _heard_ of. Weapons that work, and they work well." 

Steve blinked. "What do you mean? Why would he be–" 

"Because Nat told him about the Chitauri," Bucky shrugged. "Nat told him the Chitauri are probably gonna invade, and you know how he responded? By building weapons to protect us. To protect _you_." 

Steve stared at him. 

"Because he _likes_ you." 

"So… what do I do with that?" Steve asked plaintively. 

"You appreciate it," Bucky told him, simply. "You appreciate it, and you let him _know_ you appreciate it." 

Which is how Steve now finds himself nervously fiddling with silverware at the table in his rooms, fidgeting and pacing as he waits for Tony to join him for dinner. 

He lifts the lid off the stew in the center of the table, gratified that it's still steaming. He honestly doesn't know what he's looking for – the stew will still be there, and it hasn't been long enough that it won't be hot anymore. 

He knows he's just nervous. He's nervous about the conversation, about saying the right thing – about _not_ saying the wrong thing. Again. 

He'll just have to make sure he's clear this time. 

"I like you," he says, softly, to no one. Practicing. "Tony, I like you so much." 

He sounds like an idiot. 

But if it will make Tony look up at him with that big smile, with those sparkling eyes – if it will make Tony wind his arms around Steve's neck and kiss him, well. Steve has suffered worse embarrassments for less. 

"Tony," he tries, "I think we had a misunderstanding the other day. When I said you weren't _obligated_ –" No, that sounds stupid, too. 

God. He'll just wing it. 

He's saved from too much more pacing and obsessing by a hesitant knock on the door. He rushes over to it, running his hands over his torso to smooth the fabric of his shirt. 

He opens the door, and Tony is standing in the hall, looking beautiful. 

"Hi," he says, stepping back to open the door wider and allow Tony entrance. 

"Hi," Tony says, subdued, as he steps through the door. 

"How are you?" Steve asks. 

"I'm good," Tony says. He doesn't say more, so Steve gestures to the table. 

Tony sits down, waiting until Steve has sat down before taking the pot off the stew and dishing some onto Steve's plate. He serves himself second, pouring wine into each of their cups. 

Tony starts talking about the weather as they eat, keeping his bites small and far apart. Steve feels awkward, not sure how to get back the easiness they'd had the last time they'd been in this room together. 

"How are your, um, weapons coming along?" Steve asks. "Clint said you were using the engineers to build them?" 

Tony's eyes try to bore holes into the table top. "I'm sorry," he says, putting his fork down on the wood with a soft sound. "I should have asked." 

Steve blinks. "What?" 

"I should have asked," Tony repeats. "Instead of – you said to build aqueducts, I should have –" 

"I'm not mad," Steve blurts out. "Tony, no, I'm not mad." 

"Oh," Tony says, still staring down at the table. Neither of them says anything for a long moment. Steve desperately tries to think of something to say, something to make Tony understand he's not mad, that Steve wants him, that Steve could never be angry at him for this. 

"I liked the sex," Steve says, even as he's horrified at the words coming out of his mouth. "With you." 

He stares at Tony in horror. Tony stares back at him, confusion and shock warring on his face. 

"That's not what I meant to–" Steve stops himself, gives himself a little shake. "I meant to be more suave about that," he admits. "I wanted – when we talked, the other day, in the garden, I told you you had no obligation to me." 

"I remember," Tony murmurs, and Steve hates the little flash of hurt in his eyes, wonders how he'd missed it the first time. 

"I _didn't_ tell you that I liked being with you. That I like _you_. A lot, Tony, I like you so much. You're brilliant and funny and gorgeous and kind, and I mean, you're so generous, you're so – I gave you engineers, and tools, and you could have built anything. You could have built your aqueducts and your hot running water, and instead you built _weapons_ , weapons to fight a war that's not even at our doorstep, a war that isn't even your _fight_." 

"Of _course_ it's my fight," Tony says. "You're my _bondmate._ You're my _Alpha_. A threat to you is a threat to everything!" 

"I just – I just mean, you didn't have to do that. But you did, you did it for me, and I was an _idiot_ , Tony, to let you think for even one second that I don't want you. I want you with every fibre of my being, every breath and thought and and beat of my heart." 

Tony stares at him, flabbergasted. Steve is panting by now, heart pounding as he pours all his emotion out on the table between them, hoping it's not too much, hoping Tony will feel even a little bit the same. 

"I want you. I care about you. I want… I want this. Us." 

There's another beat, and then Tony is leaping to his feet, half over and half around the table and landing in Steve's lap, straddling him and clutching him and smashing their mouths together. He kisses Steve roughly, wildly, his tongue and lips devouring Steve. Steve lets out a moan, feels his own hands wind around Tony's back to hold him close, and Tony moves over him, writhing and rolling his hips as they kiss and kiss and kiss. 

"I should have said," Steve growls, kissing his way down Tony's jaw, to his throat, sucking at the tender skin there. "I should have told you that morning, I should have told you the other day in the garden. You're beautiful, Tony, and I want you. I always want you, I just didn't want you to feel like you _had_ to come to me, but god, Tony, I want you." 

"I thought – God, Steve – I thought you were trying to – you didn't ask for me," Tony gasps. 

"What?" 

"When you traded, when you signed those contracts with my father. It wasn't about me, I know that, I know Howard foisted me–" 

He doesn't get to finish the sentence – Steve seals their lips together again, stopping him and plundering his mouth for a long moment. He tears away breathlessly. "No," he says, panting. "Never think that. I didn't know you, I didn't know how amazing you'd be, and I will be forever, forever grateful that Howard brought you to me." 

Tony moans, his whole body shivering, and Steve pushes to his feet, holding Tony against his body. 

Tony wraps his legs around Steve's hips for purchase, grinding against him as Steve walks them through to the bedroom, to the bed, and he lays them down, covering Tony's body with his own. 

"I want you, I've wanted you since the moment I saw you and I will want you every moment since," Steve whispers into Tony's mouth, pulling at his clothing and kissing bare skin. 

"I want you, too," Tony moans, arching his back. Steve nips at the thin skin at his collar bone, and Tony cries out. Steve can feel his cock, hard between them, has hard as Steve's own. "I didn't think I'd – but I do, god." 

"You have me," Steve promises, back to kissing Tony's mouth. His hands pull at Tony's clothes, trying to undress him, but Tony keeps getting in the way by pulling and tugging at Steve's own. 

Steve rolls away, laughing, and starts on his own shirt, working at the fastenings of his pants, and gives Tony a heated look. "This will be much faster if you undress yourself," he says. 

"When you're right, you're right," Tony says, pulling his shirt up over his head, shoving his pants down to his knees. He's not wearing elaborate lace undergarments this time; he's naked instantly, and Steve's hips judder in the empty air at the sight. 

"Come on, come on," Tony says, grinning as he moves to help Steve finish stripping, then straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him again. 

It's slower this time, but no less heated. With Tony above him the scent of his arousal in the air, Steve can't think of anything else. His tongue licks into Tony's mouth, and Tony reaches back behind himself to take hold of Steve's hard cock. 

It's too soon, it's too fast, but Tony slinks back anyway, his slick hole so wet but so tight. He cries out but he doesn't stop moving, pushing back deliberately. 

"Tony, wait, wait, honey, it's too soon, I'll hurt you," Steve says, grabbing hold of Tony's hips to try to stop him, but god, he feels good – hot and wet and tight like a vise around him. 

"No, no, I want it, I want to feel you – fuck – stretching me open, feel you filling me, god, like that," Tony moans, not stopping, still pushing back and back until he's all the way down, Steve's whole cock inside him. He's trembling, cheeks flushed with pain and pleasure, and his cock has flagged but it's still half hard, and he stays there for a moment. 

"Fuck, Tony, god, you should have – are you okay?" 

"Yeah," Tony gasps. "It's – it's intense, but I'm okay." 

"Don't move, honey," Steve says, doing his best to hold his own hips still. "Give yourself a minute, get used to it, okay?" 

Tony nods, jerky, breathing hard above him. Steve reaches for his cock between them, wraps his hand around it and starts to stroke. After a minute, it starts to swell and harden under his touch, and Tony starts making breathless moans, his hips twitching slightly. 

"That's it, honey," Steve murmurs, his other hand reaching around Tony's hip to pet at the slick, stretched skin of his entrance. He slides his finger over it gently, lightly, around the rim of skin stretched around Steve's thick cock. 

Tony whimpers, and Steve feels the stretched, taut skin of his hole flutter under his touch. 

"Your cock is huge," Tony laughs, breathless. "I'd heard stories, and I've had it in me before, but Jesus."  
Steve snorts, burying his face in the crook of Tony's neck, trying to get himself under control. "Is it too much?" He asks cheekily. 

"Just—" Tony raises himself slightly on his knees and then pushes down again, his vice-like hole gripping and squeezing Steve's cock wetly. "Just right," he sighs, sounding less strained now. He raises himself up again and pushes back down, sets himself a slow, deliberate rhythm. 

Steve keeps his arms wrapped around Tony's back, holding him close and letting Tony set their pace for now. His hole is tight and wet, and he's undulating sweetly over Steve's lap. He's hard, and his cock slides against Steve's belly as he moves over him. Steve leans in and mouths at his neck, pressing kisses across Tony's shoulders and chest and throat. 

"Do you like it like this?" Steve asks, murmuring the words into Tony's skin. He wants to know everything about Tony, he wants to know his favourite ways to make love so that he can do all of them, make Tony scream and cry under him. "When you're riding me like this, taking me? Do you want my knot like this?"  
Tony moans, his moving a little faster. "Sometimes," he says as a little burst of precome drips onto Steve's belly. Steve nips at his collarbone, shivering slightly at the sound that elicits. 

"What about right now?" Steve growls, reaching up and digging his fingers into Tony's hair, tugging it to expose more of his throat. "Do you want me to knot you like this, or should I turn you over and mount you properly?" 

"Fuck," Tony gasps, thrusting down hard and taking Steve deeper. His hole flutters and clenches around Steve, and he feels himself already growing close. "Later, you can mount me later, Steve, I'm not going to—" 

Tony throws his head back, crying out and coming, spurting between them even as he clenches and squeezes Steve's cock. Steve growls, wrapping his big hands around Tony's narrow hips, and pulls him down harder, grinds Tony into his lap and onto his cock, groaning deep and low in his throat as his knot swells, as his cock pulses and he comes, spurting his seed into Tony's wet, shivering body. 

Tony cries out again, and Steve knows he's coming a second time already, his whole body jerking and pulsating as he writhes on Steve's knot. 

"Wanna watch you come like this all the time," Steve growls, grinding his knot deeper into Tony's prostate, reveling in the way Tony whines and gasps and squeezes around him. More slick leaks out between them, and Steve's thighs are soaked, wet and slick with Tony's fluids, and it's so hot Steve's own cock gives another valiant twitch, pulsing and spurting more come into Tony's body. 

"Alpha, Alpha, Alpha," Tony moans, limbs going limp even as his hips shift and rock, as though he can't take any more stimulation but his body is seeking it out anyway, desperately. 

"My Omega," Steve growls, taking Tony's slack mouth in a claiming, possessive kiss.  


+++++ 

Tony wakes slowly, coming back to himself in stages. First he becomes aware of the sounds in the room — Steve's soft breathing, deep with sleep. There's a fire crackling in the fireplace, and children playing in the courtyard outside. 

He feels his body next; loose-limbed and warm, his muscles slightly sore. His legs are a little shaky, his asshole a little loose from Steve's huge knot. His skin is sticky with sweat and slick and come, and he needs a bath. 

Steve has softened, his knot gone down so he's slipped out of Tony's body, and he feels empty. His hole is tender, raw, sore from being stretched too much too fast, but Tony doesn't regret it. He'd loved it, the feeling of Steve's huge cock filling him, stretching him and making a place for Steve inside Tony's body. It had felt like a true claiming, like Steve was really taking him, owning him. 

He hadn't thought he'd want that, but he had. It had felt good, if intense. 

Steve moves in his sleep, tightening his arms around Tony's body, and Tony likes this, too. The feeling of being possessed, of belonging, of being Steve's, more than anything else. 

He wiggles, pressing his ass to Steve. He's not sure when Steve had turned him, rolled him and spooned up behind him to hold him in their doze, but he feels safe, protected here. Warm in Steve's arms. 

Steve's loving arms. He can admit that, now. That Steve cares for him just as deeply as Tony cares for Steve. Steve has been nothing but kind, has been gentle and generous and Tony hadn't ever expected it. But it's time to stop hiding from it. 

He shifts his hips again, feeling a low twinge in his belly, a hint of desire. It's not urgent, so he just rocks his hips back, feeling Steve's limp cock against his ass, teasing himself and thinking of Steve inside him.  
"If you keep that up I'm going to have to fuck you again," Steve says, voice rough with sleep. "You're insatiable, aren't you?" 

"Mmm," Tony says, answering with another little wiggle of his hips. 

"You can't be in heat again already," Steve says, running a hand down Tony's chest, his belly, to his cock. He's starting to harden, and he fills out fully with Steve's touch as Steve wraps a hand around him, grips his cock and starts stroking it, slow and gentle. "It's too soon." 

"Not — oh — not in heat," Tony says, arching his back and pushing into Steve's clever hand. He'd never imagined an Alpha being so interested in Tony's pleasure, in touching Tony and stroking his cock and watching him fall apart. He'd expected an Alpha who would use him, fuck his ass and knot him at his own leisure, but Steve had upended every expectation Tony had come here with. "Just want you." 

"Well, then, that's going to work out fine for me," Steve rumbled, moving his hand down to cup Tony's balls, stroking and petting at them before moving down, pushing between Tony's legs and back, back to his hole, already slick again with want. "Because I want you, too. All the time, Tony." 

Tony moans as Steve's gentle fingers press at his hole, slipping in slowly. Steve pumps his hand a few times, lips sucking at the lobe of Tony's ear, and Tony can feel Steve's cock hardening, thickening and lengthening at the small of Tony's back. He whines, tries to bend forward to present, but Steve just keeps touching him, fingering him and kissing his ear, his neck. 

"Please," Tony gasps, a rush of slick easing the way further for Steve's questing fingers. "God, please, Steve, I need your knot." 

"In time," Steve says, suddenly pushing up and to his feet, looming over Tony. It's alarming, exciting, and Tony is urgently reminded of Steve's strength, his size, the way Steve can hold him down and take him and god, he needs Steve in him now. 

Instead, Steve picks him up, twists him and hitches him up, and Tony can't help but wrap his legs around Steve's narrow waist, and Steve tilts his chin up for a kiss. Tony meets him, lips and tongue searching and wild, trying to seek out all of Steve's taste, trying to make Steve understand how much he wants the Alpha, how much he needs him, right now. How strong his desire, how wild his arousal. 

"Patience, love," Steve murmurs against his mouth, and Tony whines, tries to hitch his hips and get some friction on his cock. Steve is hard, too, Tony can feel his erection, the base thick and heavy, the length of it deliciously long. 

"Let me love you," Steve says, gripping Tony and holding him still, catching his eye, and he's serious, he's gentle and loving and he wants to love Tony. 

Tony gives into it, rolls his hips a little more because he can't help it, but he stops fighting, stops trying to make Steve fuck him. It's calming, there's a sense of rightness to it. Steve will take care of him. Will be good to him. And as aroused as Tony is, as much as he wants Steve, he will have it. He'll have all of Steve, all he could want, when Steve decides to give it to him. 

"That's it, sweetheart," Steve praises, carrying him across the room, out into the washing room. The bath is there half filled with water. There's a large basin over the fire, the water hot and rumbling. 

Steve sets Tony down on a chair, pressing his hips down into it. "Stay here," he orders, and Tony wants to disobey, wants to stand up just to be ornery, but he doesn't. He stays on the chair, even as Steve straightens up to his full height, naked and glorious in the firelight. Steve watches him for a moment, as though to ensure Tony will obey his orders, and Tony gives a little shiver. He wonders what Steve would do if he did disobey — would he turn Tony over his knee? Would there be punishment? Or would Steve be sweet and gentle and solicitous, as he's been up to now? 

He doesn't test it, for now. He watches as Steve moves over to the basin over the fire, picks it up and pours some of the hot water into the bath. 

"I will do those water pipes," Tony tells him, surprised at the sound of his own voice. No defiance, but also no bravado, none of the subservient tone he's used to hearing out of his own mouth around his Alpha. "The aqueducts, all of it. Just like I said." 

"I know," Steve says simply. "There's no rush, though. I want you to do what you want to do. If that's building weapons, even though you don't have to, even though it's more than I have any right to ask of you, then you do that. Until you decide to do the aqueducts, we've been doing fine like this." 

Steve reaches down and tests the water with a hand, pours more of the boiling water in. Another test with his hand, then he takes the basin and hangs it back over the fire. 

"Come here," Steve tells him, and Tony does. He expects Steve to get in the bath so Tony can wash him, clean him of the sweat and come and slick from Tony's body. Instead, Steve kisses him soundly and pushes him toward the tub, helping Tony step over the side and into the wonderfully hot water. 

Steve stays outside the tub, reaches for a bottle of rose-scented soap and a sponge, then methodically and gently begins to wash Tony. He takes care with it, holding Tony's arm up in the air to scrub every inch of skin clean. 

It feels heavenly, the grime and sweat and slick coming off him and leaving him warm and clean and sweet-smelling. 

He doesn't even realize he's still hard until Steve's hand dips below the water and wraps around his cock, stroking him with strong, sure fingers. He's not moving fast, but his pace is even and confident, and Tony almost doesn't know what's happening and then he's coming, fast, his body shivering and clenching as he does. Steve's fingers move down, two pushing inside him, into his clenching hole, and it sets off an aftershock. Tony's hands grip the sides of the tub, his knees falling apart as Steve fucks into him with his fingers, rubbing at his prostate and making Tony cry out needily. 

"God, I want to see you come over and over," Steve says, fingers not slowing down. Tony feels the crest of another wave, another unexpected orgasm, and his cock pulses in the water, his hole clenching and leaking slick that washes away instantly. 

"Steve," Tony moans, water sloshing out the side of the tub as he thrusts his hips up, seeking friction again even as Steve rubs at his sensitive prostate. 

"Yes, love, again," Steve says, and his voice is warm, proud, kind, but his hand is cruel, taking Tony past the limit, past what feels good until it's too much, too sensitive, and then Tony comes again, crying out and jerking helplessly in the water, while Steve fucks him with his big, sure fingers. 

Tony is near senseless when Steve finally pulls his fingers free, and he cups his hand and dips it into the water, rinsing away the come and sweat and slick before hauling Tony out of the bath. He's shaky, unsteady on his feet, but Steve carries him to the bed again, laying him down and then crawling over him, peppering kisses all over Tony's skin. There's a ticklish spot on the inside of his knee, and when Steve discovers it, he gleefully presses kisses to it, grinning as Tony twitches and whines. 

"How do you feel, love?" Steve asks him, moving up to lay beside Tony. Tony is sprawled out on the bed, not sure what day it is or how long Steve has been torturing him so sweetly, or how to answer that. He feels everything. 

"You're a menace," He breathes, and Steve huffs a laugh another gentle kiss pressed against Tony's collarbone. 

Steve's hard against his hip, and Tony is spent, sated, but he wants to make Steve feel good, needs it. More than air, more than water or food or sun, he wants to feel Steve fall apart in his arms the way Steve has ruined and rebuilt Tony so many times. 

With a Herculean effort, Tony heaves himself up, swings a leg over so he can straddle Steve's lap, leaning down to kiss Steve. For once, Steve lets him lead the kiss, lets him decide the depth and speed. Tony takes his time, exploring that beautiful mouth leisurely. Steve shifts under him, and Tony is reminded of the somewhat insistent erection pressing against the inside of his thigh. 

He gives up Steve's mouth, though he can't help but nip at the full, swollen bottom lip with his teeth as he lets go. Steve groans and lifts his head, chasing Tony's lips, but Tony kisses his way down Steve's neck, across his chest. He pauses there, peppering kisses across the broad, muscular chest, sipping and lipping at Steve's nipples. Steve pushes his hips up, grinds his cock against Tony's thigh, but he keeps his hands on the bed to allow Tony to control everything happening. Tony rewards him by moving lower, licking and sucking his way across the ridges of Steve's muscles, down to the V of muscle that leads to his cock. 

"Tony, honey, you don't have to—" Steve tries, a token protest. But Tony can tell by the way his cock jumps when Tony bumps it with his chin that Steve wants it, wants Tony to touch him.

And Tony wants to. It's about more than giving Steve pleasure, making Steve feel as good as Tony feels. It's selfish, too — to have that kind of sway over Steve, to explore his beautiful body, to touch and taste him and make him come. 

It makes Tony feel powerful and beautiful. 

He takes Steve's long, thick cock into his mouth, opening his throat and taking him as deeply as he can, pushing all the way down before sucking his way up, swirling his tongue around the smooth head, and plunging back down. 

Steve cries out underneath him, fingers clenching and digging into the bedding, and Tony takes his time, slowly swallowing Steve all the way down and then drawing his head up to the tip, then softening his tongue and lips and throat and sinking back down. 

"Love, love," Steve moans, spreading his legs, and Tony is struck by an idea. 

He'd learned something fundamental about sex when he'd been at the academy. The professors, mostly Betas, had told them that if there was something their Alphas did to their bodies, something specific, there was a good chance it was something they, themselves, enjoyed. If an Alpha concentrated on your nipples, then they likely enjoyed having their own nipples played with. 

That first heat, when they had consummated their bond, Steve had done something for him that he hadn't expected. He'd been taught how to do it, of course — they'd been taught how to do most anything sexual at the academy — but it wasn't something an Omega should expect from their Alpha, as it was designed to give pleasure to the receiver, and generally Alphas were not so interested in the pleasure of their Omegas. 

But Steve is different, Tony knows. And Steve had done this for him, seemed to revel in it, to enjoy placing his mouth over Tony's hole and licking and sucking his way inside. 

Tony starts slowly, carefully, trying to gauge Steve's reaction as he slowly pushes Steve's thighs further apart, Steve moves his legs willingly. Tony glances up to check his facial expression, and Steve is watching him raptly, eyes glued to Tony's mouth as he licks and sucks and bobs his head. 

Tony slides a hand down the inside of Steve's thigh, lets his thumb caress the tight, furled hole between his cheeks. 

It's dry, of course, the wrinkled skin tight. Nothing like the hole of an Omega. It sends a little thrill through Tony, this slightly taboo touch, and it sends Steve skyrocketing. The Alpha cries out, thrusts his hips up and his cock pulses in Tony's mouth. He's not coming, not quite, but Tony can feel a slight swelling in the knot under his lips, an obvious sign of Steve's enjoyment. Of his pleasure. 

Tony's cock swells with it, and he'd thought he couldn't possibly, thought he'd been spent and exhausted, that there could be no more arousal or desire for him, but he'd clearly been wrong. 

Steve could bring. It out of him. 

Tony pushes at Steve's thigh, then the other, over his own shoulders and then higher still, until Steve takes hold of his own legs, hands under his knees, and spreads himself, opening himself, showing Tony his hole. 

"Gorgeous," Tony murmurs, throat hoarse from the size of Steve's cock. 

"Yeah," Steve sighs, still staring down at him. "You are. You're beautiful." 

Tony blushes, to his own surprise, but then he bends down to his task. He licks softly at first, tasting the rough, tight skin. Steve moans above him, his hole twitching under Tony's tongue, so Tony licks harder, lips and sucks at the rim of Steve's entrance, working his tongue and lips gently until Steve's hole starts to relax, starts to open slightly under Tony's ministrations. 

He dips his tongue inside then, feeling the tight muscle stretch around him, and Steve moans, his balls twitching against Tony's forehead. 

He reaches a hand up, task hold of Steve's cock, of his big, beautiful knot, and starts to stroke. He keeps his grip firm, stroking root to tip as Steve cries out under him. Tony licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue deep inside, grips his hand around as much of Steve's knot as he can and rubs hard, squeezing the sensitive knot, and Steve lets out a howl, hips jerking and hole spasming around Tony's tongue as he comes, cock spurting thick white fluid over Steve's chest and stomach, pooling in the dips of his muscle. 

"Fuck, Tony, fuck," Steve cries, and Tony doubles his efforts, drawing Steve's orgasm out until he's spent and whimpering. 

His knot is swollen, big and hard and Tony wants to feel it inside him, but he has to wait now. Not that he would trade it – watching Steve come like that, watching Steve come not because of using Tony's body, not from fucking him, but from what Tony had done to him, how Tony had pleasured him. 

He can wait for his own pleasure, if the trade off is seeing the look in Steve's eye, right now. Naked want and desire and surprise, like he hadn't expected Tony to do that for him, hadn't expected Tony to give him that. 

"You're amazing," Steve breathes. "God, I can't believe I get to have you. For as long as you want," he says, letting go of his legs and pulling Tony up to kiss him, uncaring of where Tony's mouth has been, uninterested in the mess of semen between them. "I'm yours for as long as you want me." 

Tony kisses him again, and he wants to say 'forever', he does, but it's so hard, hard to admit that he does want Steve as much as he does. 

That he loves him. 

Tony loses himself in kissing Steve, in tasting his mouth and lips, feeling the slick slide of Steve's plush tongue against his. He's wet again, can feel slick dripping between his legs, and his cock is hard between them. He moves to pull away, to shift his hips so he's not rubbing against Steve's hip, but Steve holds him still, rubbing Tony's cock against the sweat-slick flesh. 

"Oh, love, we're not nearly done yet," Steve says, the words a growl and a promise and a threat. Tony moans into the kiss, shifts, and sure enough, Steve is getting hard again already. His knot hasn't even gone down and he's hardening, and Tony's mouth waters, his ass gets even wetter, because he knows it's going to be soon, that Steve will fuck him again. 

"Take me hard, this time," Tony gasps against Steve's skin. "Take me and mount me and — and show me I'm yours." 

"Do you want that, darling? Want to be mine?" 

Tony nods, mouth falling open on another gasp, a moan. "Only yours." 

"Only mine," Steve agrees, and he's rolling Tony over, hitching his hips up so Tony is on his hands and knees, presenting properly, the way he'd been taught, and Tony shifts his legs apart, shows off his hole, knowing it's wet and open and begging to be filled. 

Steve bends over him, draping himself over Tony's back, and he slides in, hard and rough. Tony cries out because Steve is big, and he's been inside Tony already tonight but it doesn't matter, it's still big, every time. Still a stretch that opens him wide. 

"Fucking — harder," Tony says, pushing his hips back to meet Steve's thrusts, and Steve obliges, his big, thick cock and his half-swollen knot stretching Tony, opening him wide and he knows if Steve pulled out, his hole would gape, he would feel so empty, and he wants Steve to stay in him forever, always. 

Steve obliges the request, hands gripping Tony's hips hard, and there will be bruises. Bruises that Tony will press his fingers into, tomorrow, to feel the sharp edge and revel in it, in how much Steve wants him. Steve is fucking into him hard, and Tony cries out with every thrust, but he pushes back, too, matching Steve's rhythm and meeting his wildness with a wildness of his own. Steve pulls Tony's hips back, pulling him onto his cock, growling and fucking Tony harder than he's ever been fucked in his life. 

Tony comes first, but then he comes again and again, seated and stuck on Steve's big knot as Steve comes, fills him, claims him and marks him and stretches him wide. They're covered in slick and come and sweat, and Tony can do nothing but writhe and jerk as he comes again and again, his body possessed by the Alpha holding him so closely. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Tony finally gasps, the words coming out slurred and barely intelligible as he lolls his head down between his braced arms. 

"My love, my Omega, mine," Steve murmurs into the back of Tony's neck, both of them twitching with aftershocks. "I love you." 


	8. Epilogue

Tony wakes up slowly. The light filters in from a gap in the draperies, showing off an entirely too sunny spring day. 

He's alone in the bed, which isn't unusual these days. He often sleeps longer than Steve, if for no other reason than Steve makes sure to get up as silently as possible, and does what he can to let Tony sleep longer. Tony has things to do, too — work to get done, engineers to talk to, weaponry to design. And he'd been taught, at the academy, to always be up before his Alpha, to make sure he's ready for the day, and for whatever his Alpha might want from him. But Steve wants to spoil him. Let him sleep, let him work... He treats Tony like an equal, but treasured at the same time. It never ceases to amaze Tony. 

There's a plate of pastries on the bedside table, and — more importantly — a pitcher of what smells like coffee, which is still warm. 

Tony manages to keep himself from drinking it directly from the pitcher, a personal victory he doesn't manage every day, to be honest. 

He slides out of bed and slips his robe on, wandering out into the main living space. Steve's there, at the table, reading over paperwork and drinking a cup of coffee of his own. He's by himself, so Tony could have forgone the robe, but he's not always alone, so Tony has learned to err on the side of caution. 

"Morning," Steve says, tilting his head up with a grin. Tony leans down to kiss the top of his head, resisting the urge to just drop into Steve's lap for a cuddle. The paperwork looks important. 

"C'mere," Steve says, dragging Tony down into his lap anyway. 

"You're working," Tony protests half-heartedly, voice still rough with sleep. 

"It'll keep," Steve tells him. He nuzzles into Tony's neck, breathing in his still-warm sleep smell. Tony gives as good as he gets, nuzzling into Steve's neck in return. He takes a deep inhale, scenting his Alpha's warm, homey smell. Musk and strength and his. 

"Reports from the front?" Tony asks, leaning back against Steve's crooked elbow. "Things going okay?"  
"Sam sent them back with Redwing," Steve says, nodding at the paperwork. "The troops have managed to push the Chitauri back past the river." 

"That's good progress," Tony agrees. They'd been making huge strides lately with the war — they'd even managed to push the Chitauri army out past the borders of Asgard, which had been enough to earn them the support and alliance of Odin and his troops. The Prince, Thor, had been out to visit a few weeks ago on a diplomatic mission, and if Tony hadn't been mistaken, there had been sparks between the towering blond prince and one of his engineers, Jane. Tony imagines they'll be seeing quite a bit of Thor, which suits him fine. 

The guy's hilarious. 

"It's thanks to you and the new weaponry you developed," Steve tells him. 

"Course it is," Tony grins, leaning down to peck at Steve's lip. "Told you they'd work." 

"I never doubted you for a second," Steve tells him, and Tony grins. 

"No," he says, voice warm as he nestles in more closely. "You never did, did you?" 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please remember to subscribe so that you'll be notified of the art when it comes - within the week!!


	9. Art by Lasenbyphoenix

**Author's Note:**

> For those wondering, _Krasnyygorod_ is a rough translation of ‘Red Room’ in Russian.
> 
> Look, as promised: a Fake ABO Science lesson!
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